


Fate/Doubled Zero

by ShadySlade



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Holy Grail War (Fate), Horrible People Doing Horrible Things, Right?, tags are a work in progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29231688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadySlade/pseuds/ShadySlade
Summary: Angra Mainyu, the curse held within the Holy Grail, has grown bored with seeing reruns of the Fourth and Fifth Holy Grail Wars. So he decides to experiment with the settings, finding that he can change some of them within the Wars themselves, though he cannot change the classes the chosen Masters summon. He can, however, change the quantity of them.Thus starts the Doubled Fourth Holy Grail War.
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 24
Kudos: 25





	1. Prologue From within the Grail

The room was spacious, luxurious curtains covered what would normally be considered windows that would lead to looking over a luxurious sunny day, but in this case it just led to looking over the black slimy sludge that lay across the paths of the inner world that was his little portion of the grail. The youth grinned, a big toothy grin. He walked over to the large table, and picked up one of the full, shiny fruits that sat on top of a bowl. However, as soon as he touched it, it rotted, turning almost to putrid sludge in his hands. Grimacing, he took a bite out of it anyway and spat angrily, the soft, discolored, squishy remains splattering the smooth tile at the floor. He wanted out, wanted to get out of here and cleanse the world of all its evils by taking them into himself.

Just as those fools in his village had intended him to.

Oh, there’d be suffering, but with suffering came a cleansing of sorts. He turned and saw the big T.V. one of the thick, overly large modern affairs and with a thought it turned on, showing him the progress of a current run of the Fourth Holy Grail War, and even though he’d exempted that damned Kiritsugu from participating it had just opened another hole for a different outsider to intervene. Damn the mage-killer, even when he wasn’t a participant he still meddled with the outcome of the Grail War. This outsider, however, recovered the grail and took it to a place outside of the reach of the ritual, thus stopping the Fifth from even happening.

Cursing again he knocked over the tray of fruits onto the floor. He couldn’t change anything before the Fourth War, since the others had started before he’d been incorporated into the grail, so all he could do was essentially fiddle with the settings, change around who was summoned, and who were masters, though the more he changed the worse the outcome became for the grail and the war. Honestly, it was a sad state of things if his best chance of being able to manifest outside of the grail was in the hands of a handful of masters that always fought each other with the same servant types.

It frustrated him that, as long as he had the same masters, they still summoned the same class of servant. It was the one setting beyond his reach. But maybe...

If he couldn’t change what class the masters summoned for the war... maybe he could change the quantity? Would that change anything?

At the very least it would be entertaining.

Snapping his fingers he called the souls of the dead masters from the previous grail wars. They appeared before him, one holding a sheet of ancient vellum even his cursed touch couldn’t corrupt and doing their best not to actively flinch away from his touch. They couldn’t really be harmed by it, the echoes of their memories, personalities and physical descriptions were already well and truly inscribed upon the grail. But it still made him smile his happy go-lucky, wicked little smile to see the edelfelt girl he’d killed flinch at the sight of him.

That little job had truly been a masterpiece. Somehow he’d caught her unaware, away from her twin and while her own servant had been distracted by Berserker... Swish, pop, slash. She’d gone down with nary a whimper, though she’d bleed out slowly and painfully. He’d had to run, since her servant had sensed the danger immediately and turned to attack, but somehow he’d made it out. And she had died. A real good piece of work, that.

Holding the vellum close, he looked it over and saw the specifications of the Masters and their needs, as well as proclivities. For this particular experiment he’d have the masters of the Fourth be the same, but how many servants could he give them and still have them able to compete?

He pushed the number up to two and saw two of the weaker Masters immediately drop, it was unfortunate. sliding the bar over he could see the outcomes with even more servants added, he even threw in additional Master candidates and the outcomes still looked grim, at least for him. Resetting it back to the original seven Masters and seven Servants he checked another section of the modification scroll. He couldn’t actually lower their parameters, or their raw mana cost, but he could, possibly, just maybe, offer more mana to the servants through the grail, that would free up the ability to add more Servants, at least. He seemed to be able to increase their ability to absorb mana from their surroundings more efficiently, though it seemed dangerous. His ultimate goal, however, was to get out, no matter how unlikely that would be through the Fourth and even in the Fifth. And if that wasn’t happening, he at least wanted to see a show.

After fiddling with the settings for a few more minutes, and finally finding a happy medium he could tolerate, Angra Mainyu laughed again, handing the vellum back to the Edelfelt girl, seeing her shiver put him in a good mood. He thought up a large couch he could lounge on and jumped over the back of it onto the cushions. 

Even if he didn’t get out, this would still be quite the show to watch.


	2. Chapter 1: Einzbern it all down.

The castle lay in the middle of the frozen wastes, blanketed in perpetual snow a grey sore rising out of the pure white of its surroundings. Despite its grand design it still stood as a solemn tribute to the ancient gods of winter that ruled over this particular part of the world. The Einzbern estate should have been a long abandoned frozen fortress, and yet it still harbored life within it. Magic causing warm water to flow through the stone and heat the premises like the blood of a living thing.

Even so, the spacious interior seemed overly gaudy for what they were doing here. Long ago, many of the human members of the Einzberns had long since died out, leaving only their homunculus creations to continue with their work. There were few actual warriors amongst them, and with such slim pickings in the wars before this they had opted to add a stranger to the mix of their fighting force for this particular war, as an experiment of sorts.

Kiritsugu Emiya sat in the chapel in the heart of the great castle, looking at the altar from his seat as he planned out his options. Old man Acht had found the artifact they’d been looking for, and it was to be used for this summons, to try and get themselves the famed king of knights, Arthur Pendragon, but if that failed they had prepared a backup catalyst for them, a five pointed leaf with a bloodstain on it. This would summon someone who wasn’t as strong as Arthur, but still it would be a saber, so it would work with his plans.

“Kiritsugu,” his wife’s voice called from the summoning circle they’d set up in front of the altar. “The ritual is ready, but is this really enough to entice a hero to come to join us?”

The circle itself was made of some kind of silvery substance, Acht had called it the essence of life, and was one of the ingredients used in the creation of Homunculi. How much of it was used determined the strength of their magical circuits as well as the level of intelligence they had. Using such a prime material would strengthen the effect of the summoning, and surely call forth the strongest servant to their side.

“Yeah,” the mage killer said, standing up from his seat and heading towards the circle that was prepared. He checked and double checked it. He knew the theory behind the summoning circles used behind the ritual, and held his hand out to pour his own mana into it to keep it stable and establish himself as the Master if the Servant took the bait. “The grail itself does the heavy lifting, allowing for the summoning of the Servant, while I, as the Master, just give them the opportunity to manifest physically.”

“That’s wonderful!” Irisviel said, with a bright cheery smile, clapping her hands in front of her and her crimson eyes lighting up brightly. “Then we should start as soon as possible.”

“That we should, dear,” the assassin said with a smile. When he was with her or his own daughter, his past seemed to melt away, leaving only a warmth he’d felt when with Shirley when he’d been a child. Something about that both comforted him and worried him. They’d be dragged in this war no matter what, and there was nothing he could do for his wife in this war, well very little he could do. “Heed my words, My will creates your body, and your sword my destiny.”

A spark of energy came from the circle, white light shining brightly as the swirl of electricity and energy rushed forwards and smashed against the edge of the ritual space. It was as if some living thing writhing in a cage, smashing itself against the edges to free itself. He felt the mana drain from his outstretched hand where command spells were placed, and felt disconcertingly like something drinking his mana from him like a straw.

“The essence is silver and steel, and the base is stone Archduke of contracts. If you heed the Grail’s call, and obey my will and reason, then answer my summoning!” another spark and flash, as even more mana was drawn through now. A mist or smoke was beginning to coalesce on the center of the ritual space, some of it growing thicker in the center as if to take a human form. “I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world, and shall defeat all evil in the world!”

The end of the incantation was coming, and he could feel the mana draining from him begin to lessen as the circle seemed to stabilize its connection to the Throne within the Grail.

“Seventh heaven, clad in the words of power!” the man said, the final stanza in sight and his own goal of peace for his daughter finally coming into perfect clarity and focus. “Come forth from the circle of bindings, Guardian of the Scales!”

A sudden thunderclap sounded from the ritual as a lightning bolt of power came flashed from the center, and the mist rose up as if to clothe the form of the Servant within. Then the glow faded and the mist slowly fell away, revealing a warrior clad in silver and red. Twisted dragons horns sprouting from the sides of the helm rising up and away from the head. The from stepped forwards, not quite exciting the circle as it took in the chapel it had been summoned to.

“Gotta say,” the voice said, a lilt of joy to its feminine voice. “This is far better than my last summon. Not even a graveyard this time.”

It turned its gaze to the pair of humans before it and fully stepped from the circle, Kiritsugu unconsciously stepped in front of Irisviel, holding his right hand out in front of her in a protective gesture, even if there was little he could do to stop a servant from harming him or his wife in this place.

“Don’t worry, little mage,” the woman said, her helmet clicking as it came loose from her head and slid smoothly to rest at the base of her neck. Even the horns of the helm came down and nestled like some kind of necklace around her throat. “I can clearly see the command seals on your hand, meaning you must be my new master, I’m the saber class Servant, but the name’s Mordred, it's nice to meet you master!”

A loud gasp came from Irisviel and Kiritsugu glared at the sheath of Excalibur, Avallon, that lay on the altar. This was bad, not the servant they’d wanted to summon to the war, but he couldn’t say that out loud. Who knew what the Knight of Rebellion would say if he went and said, ‘my apologies, I meant to summon your father.’

“Well, should we get this war started?” the woman said, a feral grin spread across her face. “I won’t ask you what it is you want from the grail, but I’ll tell you right now, in case you’re wondering, I want to show that I’m better than my father! And I’ll prove it to you peasants in this war!”

Laughing to herself she took another pair of steps forward, only to jump when the circle flared to life again. The bright sparking light shone brightly as the mist returned to within the circle, sucked into it as if from a great breath from the ritual itself. Kiritsugu felt a sudden flash of pain on his left hand that reminded him of when the command seals had first appeared on his right. A second flash of light burst from the center and the form of a second figure could be seen through it, even if it obscured it’s form.

“What the hell, Master?!” Mordred yelled angrily, her blade already drawn and ready and her helmet quickly sliding back into place on her head. The metallic echoing ring of her voice coming from beneath it.

“I have come in response to your call for the Holy Grail,” a man’s voice said from within the circle itself. As the mist cleared the mage-killer saw a man with silver hair and black armor that covered everything but his head, chest and back. A silvery-green mark covered the majority of his chest and he had a silver greatsword already drawn in his hands as he sensed the hostility from outside the circle. As the mist cleared he glared at the other Servant in front of him. “I am the Saber Class Servant.”

“Dumbass!” the red armored knight growled, rushing forwards to slash at her opponent. “I’m obviously the Saber here!”

The clash of swords echoed through the chapel as the pair took in the fight of the Servants in front of them. Sparks flowed from the fight, even as the weapons themselves blurred in the speed of combat. The front row of pews was demolished as the mage-killer moved himself and his wife further back, taking refuge past the fifth and sixth rows of the chapel.

“You’re obviously here to kill my Master and not even give me a chance in this war!” the red saber growled in one of the very brief lulls in their combat. Their blades keening, as if in pain, as the pressure of the conflict of raw strength caused them to lock against each other. “I won’t allow it! I’ll KILL YOU!!!”

The rush and warp of their combat continued, flashing across the hall and towards the windows, only the sparks appearing from their rapid combat appearing to the eyes of the non-Servants watching. Then, a sudden ringing cry as Mordred went flying to the other side to slam into the wall. And crash through it. The other Saber, looking over at Kiritsugu nodded at him, he’d come to some kind of conclusion.

“I’m sorry about this, Master,” the man said, shooting a pitying look over to Kiritsugu while striding towards the fallen Servant and raising his blade as Mordred dug herself out of the rubble that remained of the wall itself.

“Enough!” the dark haired magus yelled, catching the pairs attention as he growled. He grimaced, then rose and walked towards the pair while they stopped in place. His wife, staying close to him but matching his own confident stride. “You two have shown great skill in your fight. And the both of you have shown me the determination to fight for the Grail.”

“Master,” the muffled grunt from the woman came, as she’d finally dug herself out from under the stones that had fallen upon her. “What, exactly, do you mean the both of us? Each Master is only supposed to have one, right?”

“Normally yes,” the man said, with a sigh. He was just as confused as they in this case, but he had to stay confident if he didn’t want to lose his servants, whichever one ended up being his real servant. “But this war is obviously a strange exception.”

He raised both his hands and showed the pair of command seals on his hands. Neither were quite the same, the one he’d started with, on his right hand, was like a simple drawing of a sword. The other one, the new one that had appeared during the second summoning, was like a thicker broadsword, or one of the japanese horse killers, but seemed to have dragons wings flaring out from the hilt. Grimacing, he saw the pair of Servants stare at him in confusion. Then the silence was broken when the red saber broke into laughter.

“Well, you seem to be a helluva Master!” the woman said between her loud boisterous laughter. “Not only did you summon myself, but you also managed to snag yourself a second Servant in the deal!”

The black servant just looked at his command seals, then at his new Master, then back down to the Command Seals.

“Does this mean...?” the man said, a small tremble of emotion in his voice now. “That both of us, as your Servants, get a wish?”

“That,” the dark haired man said, with a tired sigh. “I do not know, but I want you both to work with me, at least until we find out.”

“Well,” his wife said, from behind him. “It seems this war is going to be... interesting, isn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Servants remember small fragments from the Apocrypha war, but it won't really be a big thing. I just like Sisigou as a character and wanted him to get a very minor shout out in this particular chapter.


	3. Wickedness and the Church

Risei Kotomine sighed again as he bowed before the altar at the Fuyuki Church in the center of the city. He prayed to his God for wisdom in the upcoming war. For the ability to plan things out, and the opportunity to give the grail to Tokiomi Tohsaka, as he believed that would cause the least amount of harm to the world out of all the participants.

Sighing again he stood up, his old back twinging in pain as he stood. Old age was taking its toll on him, but he had to prepare for his meeting with Tohsaka and his son soon. They would be meeting at the gaudy home of the elegant magus to witness the miracle of summoning a soul from the beyond. It was similar to what those in ancient times would call Necromancy, but it was a far nobler art than all that. As a member of the church he should be disgusted by the heathen rituals of Mages, and yet he looked at this ritual more as the final calling from heaven from the book of Revelations.

Questioning one’s faith, especially in the church, was a clear sign that he was growing too old to participate much longer in these matters. He simply hoped his son recovered from his loss soon so he could take over here in his stead.

A sudden thrum of power vibrated through the church, causing his attention back to the church behind him, as a sudden spark of light appeared near the front of the church, in front of the pews that were set up for the church service, but between himself and them from where he stood in front of the altar.

A thunderclap, flash of light and sound and the heat from it, washed over the old priest as a sudden burst of mist or steam came from the spot where the sudden emergence of a strange circle glowed. Once it cleared the form of a young woman with blond hair and silver armor bowed in the center, a large silver and gold flag pole held in one of her hands that was resting in the hand near her knee so it wouldn’t drag along the ground.

The old man gasped, staring at her in wonder and shock. Normally, he’d be outraged that a mage would dare to do their summoning here, bringing this sort of ritual into a holy place seemed a perversion of his holy word. Even if it was like the trumpet calls from the bible, this was far too brazen, and far too much for him to simply ignore.

“I have come in response to irregularities in the Holy Grail War here,” the woman said simply, before standing up before the old priest. A small smile plastered on her face as she moved about. “My name is Ruler, and I am to be the arbitrator of this most holy of rituals.”

The man’s mouth opened, then closed, like a fish gasping for air while the words refused to come to him. He tried to think what he could do, what it was he needed to say to this strange servant, and his mind grabbed onto the first thing he could think of.

“Ruler?” the man finally managed. “What does that mean? I am the officially chosen mediator of this war.”

“Then that means you are my Master,” the woman said simply, a cherubic smile on her face. “I am here to make certain that, despite the irregularities, the proper rules and conduct of this war are upheld.”

“W-what?” the old man said, this was the first he’d heard of this. Even in the third war, the one he’d been dispatched to help oversee, there hadn’t been a Ruler for that. There had been something else much worse. Maybe she was like the Avenger that had been dispatched by the Einzberns in the Third. The old man pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as he headed to one of the pews sitting near the front. “So that means, as my Servant, I also have to participate in this war?”

“No Master,” the woman said, a look of shock now on her face, her bright blue eyes widening slightly as she took in what he’d said. “You are not expected to participate, and you and I will not have our wishes granted, even if we are the sole remaining participants.”

“Then what is our role?” the man said, prodding now as he stared at the woman that stood near him.

“Your role is to supply my Mana, for the purpose of this ritual,” the woman said, with a simple smile. “And to protect those who can no longer participate due to losing their Servants. You still get your Command Seals, the ones you get from Fallen Masters, but you still cannot use them to command others Servants or myself, only to give them to others.”

“However, I can,” the woman said with a sparkle in her eyes. “I have two Seals for each Servant summoned, meaning, if the current trend continues, I will have fourteen in total. I cannot command them to the same degree their true Masters could, however I can still compel them to a certain extent.”

“Fourteen in total,” The man muttered to himself as he looked her over, confusion bubbling up again. This wasn’t anything like what he’d had to deal with in the Third at all. But at least it pointed to his son not being a fluke and the summoning of two servants each for the Masters could be commonplace. “Then what is the point of me being here?”

“If you die, I also dematerialize, though I can use my own supply of Command Seals to maintain myself. So my main goal is to maintain the balance of this war, and to keep my own Master safe. And, if needed, to resupply my Command Seals in case I need to use some of them.”

“I can also give them to you?”

“Yes, if the need arises” the woman said, finally relaxing as she sat next to the old man. “Come Master, let’s make sure this war is fairly fought, and only the best possible Master gains the Grail.”

“Fairly fought, eh?” the man said, with a sigh. He felt he needed to tell Tokiomi about this, if it came to him that each Master summoned two Servants then it would change the magus’ battle plans. “I think I know who I would prefer to win the Grail already, Ruler.”

The woman’s eyes hardened as she heard what he was trying to say and he stopped, dead cold. A drip of nervous sweat coming down his brow. He’d seen from the Third what a Servant could do to an ordinary person, it was messy, and no mere mortal could dare hold a candle against them in direct, open conflict.

“Playing favorites is outside the rules, Master,” the woman said, a cold hard edge to his voice. “It is better to be impartial, and to not give out favorable information to just one side.”

The man gulped, nervously, then shook his head. This woman was his own Servant he could... wait, no he couldn’t. He had no way to compel her to obey, so all he could do was attempt to talk it out with her, to convince her of his position, or at least attempt his subterfuge outside of her watchful eyes.

“I merely meant there was at least one Master I’m sure has no ignoble wishes for the grail,” the man said, trying to calm her. “I have no intentions of favoring one side over another in my rulings. However, I believe informing the Masters of this change of rules would be within my rights?”

“Hmm, I suppose so,” the girl said, a brighter tone to her voice and the usual playful spark coming back to her eyes. “I shall allow it, however if you tell one you need to inform the others as well to the best of your abilities. Do you think you can handle that, Master?”

“Yes,” the old priest said with a gritting of his teeth. This was far outside of his usual purview, but he still needed to try. “I will let them know.”

“Good, then I will be going to check out the city,” the woman said as she stretched and stood up. The spiritrons of her silvery armor changed into what looked like a nuns habit and she smiled again. “I need to acquaint myself with the area, the leylines themselves, as well as some of the participants in this war. I assume you can keep yourself sheltered in case something goes awry?”

“Yes, Ruler,” the old priest said, a weary smile plastering his face as the new Servant made her way from the premises and out the front doors of the church. He needed to inform Tokiomi, but he had to be careful. There were ways to stay alive that even made him shudder. And without knowing the True Name of his Servant, he’d have to play this carefully or he could befall any of those cursed fates


	4. Elegance in All Things

The tall ostentatious building overshadowed all the other buildings on the street, screaming of the high class family that resided within. The ornate metal gates at the front of the building barely creaked even as the few visitors that came to the Tohsaka residence passed through. It was all well maintained, as expected of what could be considered nobles within the modern time. 

The elegant magus sighed as he waited for his pupil in the basement, he heard some kind of yelling upstairs and shook his head with a wry smile. Rin had, no doubt, asked for something outrageous again. She was always eager to impress, and there were times he’d worried she was afraid of him throwing her away like what she’d thought he’d done to Sakura, even if that wasn’t entirely the truth. He’d needed to find a place where she could excel at magic, and the Matou family had given him the perfect opportunity to do so. He would not allow either of his daughters to fester in the squalor of an ordinary life, even if that hurt his daughters for him to do so. It had been just like his own father had done for him.

Was he repeating mistakes his father had, to prepare his children for the dark and twisted world Magecraft existed in? Shaking his head of such morose thoughts he looked over the pair of artifacts he’d prepared, a fossilized piece of wood supposedly from the Argo, and an arrow with a rusted head, blood still staining the wooden haft of it. He hadn’t managed to get the snake skin, the piece he’d been searching for, but he had no more time to stall and would have to make do with what he actually had.

He turned as he heard the footsteps of Kirei Kotomine heading down to meet with him. He felt a small smile reach his face. He had more than filled the expectations he’d expected from his student, and had long since passed the marks he usually reserved only for his children. The man was a quick learner, if a bit morose, but all the better since he seemed to have no wish of his own.

As the executor entered the basement he looked over and saw his servants manifest. A woman clad in black, with feathers framing her face sprouting from her shoulders, and a small girl clad in very revealing clothes, with a brace of knives at her hips. He hadn’t expected the man to summon a pair of servants, that had been quite the surprise to him, but it spoke of his excellent training that he’d managed to do so. Even if everyone else only got a single servant in this war, they would have the advantage by having a pair of assassins on their side.

“Master,” the woman said coldly, looking around the workshop with a very critical eye. “I do not understand why we work with such a man, who holds himself up as a noble and yet would have such a disorderly and amateur workshop beneath his abode.”

“Semiramis...” the brown haired assassin said, a small hint of reproach in his voice, even though she hissed at him using her true name in front of another. “This man is my mentor, someone we will be working closely with over the course of this war.”

The head of the Tohsaka family simply sipped at the wine he’d prepared ahead of time and watched. It was interesting, they had come up with several plans before the summoning, but having the pair of assassins had changed many of them for him. However, he would know which plans to go with, only depending on who he summoned. If he managed to get a strong servant, he’d use a show of force to keep his enemies wary of him, and not on his partner. If he got something less than that...

Well, better to not think in that way.

The elegant magus cleared his throat as the little girl flinched and hid herself behind her master’s leg. The haughty woman, however, glared over at him and he smiled in return, waving his hand towards a glass and allowing her to partake if she wished.

The woman shook her head, keeping herself near her master. By now both assassins likely knew that Kirei Kotomine had no wish of his own, no real reason to be fighting in this war, and that would likely cause some strife, but the pair of them seemed to be bonding well with their master.

“Is your father joining us?” the brown haired magus said simply as he looked over the ritual spell again. He checked and double checked, one of the servants his pupil had summoned was a famous poisoner and betrayer and it wouldn’t hurt to be extra cautious.

“No,” the empty eyed man said. “Something is happening now at the church, and he was indisposed for the evening.”

“Anything I need to know about?” the red clothed man asked, a single raised eyebrow his response to the disruption of their plans.

“Yes, just a little change in plans.”

“Do tell?”

“Apparently another servant has been summoned.”

“Outside the usual seven?” Tokiomi said, now standing up and watching the trio in front of him. He still had the other man’s loyalty, there was no doubt of that, but being a mage meant being both bold and cautious, and unexpected changes could truly end not only one’s career, but life and even bloodline.

“It seems so,” the man said, not a single change in his tone of voice. “Someone calling themselves Ruler was summoned to the church, and took over my father’s position.”

“Took over?” A look of incredulous shock coming onto the normally passive and calm face of the head of the Tohsaka family. “So Risei is out then?”

“Not entirely,” the brown haired assassin said, passivity still holding on his face. “We simply have a Servant who sees themselves a mediator for this war. Instead of just having my father do the job, we have another set of eyes upon us now. He also wanted to let us know that my summons shouldn’t be considered unique for this war, since Ruler mentioned something about fourteen Servants.”

Things were quickly spiraling out of control here, and the abnormalities had started with his student’s original summoning a week ago. The pair had decided it would be better for them if the executor had summoned his assassin Servant first, since it would allow the man to scout out ahead for any others who would interfere in their plans. Then it had gone awry when not only the ancient feather, but the pair of blood-rusted knives had both responded to the summons, causing the girl, Jack the Ripper, and the haughty empress, Semiramis, to be summoned under Kirei’s command. Originally, that had been a boon of sorts, but if all the others were also summoning their own pair of Servants, that could change things drastically. If they thought they were the only ones to do so, like he had until just recently, then they could take advantage of that. If they didn’t, they still had the advantage of four versus two in individual fights.

Besides, Jack had a purpose, at least in his plans. She could still be used to target female Masters and Servants, if they were to confront any.

“Well, it seems that things have gone beyond our control,” the Tohsaka patriarch said, a brief sigh coming to him as he put his hand to his forehead. Plans rarely made it past the first skirmish, after all, so this was to be expected. But at least some of their own backup plans could still work in theory. “Send your Servants to keep watch, I will summon my own Servants now. No more stalling for time waiting for a Relic that’s likely never coming.”

“Yes, teacher,” the priest said, bowing slightly with his hand above his heart.

Jack went to her spiritual form quickly, seemingly eager to get away from the stern man, but the empress seemed to glare at him before turning to her own Master.

“Are you sure of this, Master?” the woman said, making certain to keep the Tohsaka head in the corner of her vision. No doubt the man could do very little so long as a Servant still stood alongside their Master, and it was obvious she distrusted him since he’d foisted his goal and ideals onto the priest. Likely she was trying to convince him to fight in the war seriously, but as far as he was aware it wasn’t working on the other man.

“Yes, Semiramis,” Kirei said, looking at her with what amounted to, for him, a smile. “You may go, but if you feel uncomfortable then remain in your spiritual form.”

“Yes, Master,” the woman said, a dangerous glint to her eyes as she looked over at the mage across the table. “Jack, dear.”

“Yes, Mommy?” the little serial killer’s voice echoed through the halls of the basement, even if she was in her spiritual form it seems like the amalgamation of spirits hadn’t quite left yet.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me Mother,” the empress said with an almost aggravated sigh. Her hand went to her own forehead, but carefully and gracefully avoided poking herself with the spike embedded in the center of her palms. She glared at the mage, who wisely looked away and allowed the woman her dignity. It wouldn’t do for him to antagonize her before the war even started. “Now, dear, could you make sure we aren’t being watched or followed... outside?”

“Yes mo-” the girl started, before the poisoner glared in the general direction of the voice, though she likely couldn’t exactly tell where Jack the Ripper was right now. “B-big sis...”

The voice ended in a sort of plaintive whine as the presence receded, no doubt the spiritual form going back up the stairs to make sure no one tried to approach the premises that wasn’t allowed. Even if it was daylight out, and that would weaken her powers, the red clothed magus knew that this servant would still be able to handle anyone outside of a direct assault by a Servant.

Holding the pair of artifacts in front of him he looked them over again, then started with the arrow, placing it on the stone platform he’d prepared ahead of time. The piece of wood he placed on a crystal shelf that was near the circle, but to the left of it. Close enough to be used in the summoning, he hoped, but far enough away so he could get the proper summon from the arrow.

Beginning the ritual, he felt the flow of mana in his body reverse. He’d always specialized in mana control, and feeling the flow disrupt and shift into a different direction he was used to was unpleasant. He kept his face passive, however, since it wouldn’t do to show any discomfort in front of his own apprentice. Then the red circle in front of him lit up, glowing with a soft bluish light, which was tainted by black speck dust seeming to rise up from the edges.

A sudden burst of light as he finished the stanza caused his student to cover his eyes, even though the noble looking empress kept her eyes locked on the elegant magus, he smiled, a very small brief smile, and the light quickly died. A form, a man with long chestnut colored hair that went all the way down his back, and back holding a bow in his hand glared at the woman, the open hostility between the pair of them hanging heavy in the air.

“Servant, Archer,” the man intoned, his voice smooth and fluid in his pronunciation. Even if japanese wasn’t his first language he spoke it as if it was his own native tongue. “I have responded to your call. I assume you’re my Master?”

The man was asking, staring straight at Tokiomi, who now allowed himself to openly smile as he watched his own servant step towards the edge of the circle in his direction.

“Yes,” the man said, now breathing easier. He hadn’t realised now nervous he’d been, with his student having his Servants lurking around, but now he had at least a very minor way to protect himself. “My name is Tokiomi Tohsaka, and I am your master for this war. Now, if you could kindly step out of the circle.”

The Archer glared at the woman again, cautiously stepping out of the circle and keeping himself in a state of readiness for action, should this call for it.

“Master, will you tell me what this... woman is doing here?” the Servant said, as he got close enough to speak quietly with his new master. He didn’t trust the Assassin, something about her seemed to trigger his own danger and survival instincts.

“I will, when it is time,” the man said with a grin as the circle reacted a second time, causing the Servant to spin and prepare an arrow in less than a breaths time. He didn't wince at the pain of a second set of Command Seals being branded onto his other hand. “But first, a show.”


	5. Of Heroes and Fools

The night had begun to roll in, just as Waver finished his spell on the small two story house he was staying in. Glen and Martha would stay safe from this, it would keep most common trespassers and burglars away and inform him if anyone broke in, a minor hypnotic suggestion of having ‘nothing worth going in for’ would work well enough. He shouldered the bag he had, feeling some small writhings of the chickens within as they tried to claw their way out. They were important catalysts, and he needed their blood for his Servant to be summoned.

Looking at his hand he grinned, he’d felt such a thrill of energy when the Grail had recognized him as a proper master, even after he’d stolen the artifact from that cocky bastard, Kayneth. He could still imagine the look of frustration on his face as the blond man tried to find out who had stolen his artifact and to hunt them down. So far, he’d slipped past the man’s net, but he still needed to not get too cocky. 

He still had yet to summon his Servant, tonight would be the night he did so. He expected the teacher to still attempt to participate, but it was probably unlikely since it was so close to the time of the ritual. Even so, he’d come back victorious, and then the head of the famed El-Melloi family wouldn’t even be able to touch him.

Grinning again he began his hike to the spot he’d prepared ahead of time, a nice little abandoned area in the woods, also warded against intrusion from passers-by. This would be rather simple for a genius like him. He had the book with the spell, and he’d already prepared the area for his summon. A large flat stone sat near the center of the small clearing, the trees had been carved into with a sigil to keep humans away, and the clearing was more than big enough for him to fully inscribe the ritual circle.

The young man put the bag down, leaving it tied and off to the side near where he’d entered and went to the stone, he found the small recess in it and pulled the box out. Opening it he found what he’d seen when he’d originally stolen the thing and started finding out about the Holy Grail Wars, a glass vial that had a strange purplish stain on it. His excitement was building, he was about to show all those bastards at the Clock Tower his own power, that the extent of their magic crests meant so little that even he, a third generation magus, could beat other, more experienced magi, in open combat.

This was what he’d wanted, to show his worth to those who derided him as something close to a newborn baby compared to the long and storied histories many of the other families had had. He had even sold off everything he owned to be able to pay his way through the curriculum in London, and now all his effort, sweat and tears were going to pay off.

The dark haired boy took the vial and placed it on the rock, putting it in the exact center so as the be the main focus. He placed the box down further back on the rock, only to hear a small clicking sound like something had come loose in the box. His eyebrow raised slightly as he picked the box up again and looked inside. He saw, what looked like, a heavily rusted, almost petrified looking, piece of bronze in the shape of what was once probably an arrowhead. Blinking slightly, he looked over at the book he’d set aside near the bag of chickens, then shook his head. He technically only needed a single catalyst, but it never hurt to have more than one, this would widen his summoning pool and get him just the right Servant for the war.

Or at least he hoped it would.

Placing the arrowhead on the rock he moved the vial to the side a bit, making each of them equidistant to the center of the rock, which would serve as the altar for his catalysts. Checking his pocket watch he kept on him, he marked the time. It would be the proper time, according to his estimates, very soon. He had to get the circle ready, and quickly now, since the spell he’d put around the Mackenzie house had taken a bit longer than he’d intended. Turning he went back to the bag and opened it, slipping the rope he’d tied around the neck of it free and reaching in. His nose twitched and he almost winced, he’d covered the bag in a special type of herb that grew out of this area, as well as some of his own alchemical agents, to drug the chickens so they would neither panic nor cry out in fear when he had to use them for the summoning circle.

Within a few moments he had the last chicken drained and the circle was spread out in the grass and dirt in front of him. If he’d had the time he would have preferred to completely clear the grass out, but he wanted to get this done tonight. The longer he took to summon his Servant, the more likely that Kayneth would find him and try to exact some form of revenge, but if he had a Servant under him he could easily beat the older lecturer.

He had used the rooster last, the other six had been regular chickens. This would strengthen the borders on the circle, and give him a positive reaction to the summoning ritual as a whole. Throwing the rooster’s body aside he checked his pocket watch again and saw it counting closer and closer to the appointed time. The excitement was welling again in him, and he felt a familiar rush come to him, it was the same feeling he got when he’d solved a question other students found impossible or when he’d made a breakthrough on magical research when he’d been a child. Even if his mother chided him, telling him magic was useless in these modern times she’d still supported him to the best of her abilities in teaching him how to control his magic, solve magical circles and ritual theories.

Holding out his right hand, with its Command Seals on them, Waver began chanting. He’d already memorized the ritual, though he’d taken a second look at the circle while drawing it he would never admit that to anyone who asked for his stories about the war when he got back. There was a feeling of his magic flowing out from his hand towards the circle itself, causing the red edges to begin to light up with a whitish blue light. 

Slowly, as the chant continued the light began spreading inwards towards the center, until finally he’d managed to get to the final stanza and he could hear thunder rumbling in the sky above him. He grimaced, the flow of mana coming from him making his body begin to feel cold. The pressure in the area around the circle flowing around the clearing in waves like the heartbeat of a massive sleeping beast.

Once he’d finished a flash of lightning crashed from above, or maybe the light shot into the sky above, the brightness of it caused the young magus to turn away, covering his eyes with his left arm, though he just barely managed to keep his right outstretched. When the light cleared he saw what looked like a thick mist swelling and swirling within the circle for another pair of heartbeats before the barrier of the ritual circle broke down and allowed it to flow freely into the clearing.

The form of a figure slowly emerged from the circle, stepping close to, but not quite out of, the circle. He was a green haired man with silver and leather armor. An orange sash going from his right shoulder to the left side of his waist covering some sort of soaring bird that emblazoned his breastplate, though a wreath was easily seen above the spread wing of the bird that wasn’t fully hidden by the sash. The man’s golden colored eyes glowed in the shadowed clearing he’d used for his summoning, and even as the magus’ eyes were adjusting to the sudden light then darkness the figure stepped fully out of the circle.

“Rider class Servant, Achilles,” the man said, a small smile on his face. “I have come in response to your call, my Master.”

The sudden rush of adrenaline hit him again, and Waver grinned as he looked over his new Servant. The man stopped, his hand to his chin as he looked over his Master with a thoughtful expression, then grinned.

“You’re a little scrawnier than I would have liked!” the man said as he closed the gap between them within a few short steps. The dark haired student had to control himself to not flinch as the man went far beyond the normal standard of personal space. “But that’s fine, we can work on that little detail while the war is ongoing, man this is going to be fun!”

A swift slap on the back sent the young magus sprawling on the grass nearby, causing the boy to cry out in both surprise and pain. The slap hadn’t hurt that badly, but it had been much harder than any he’d ever experienced from a normal human. And the surprise at which it had come, alongside the power, had overwhelmed him and gotten the standard pain surprise a person gives when surprised by something they’re not quite sure hurt or not yet.

“Ouch, what the hell, Rider?” Waver growled, patting at his poor shoulder that had taken the brunt of the sudden assault. “That hurt dammit...”

“Oops, sorry Master,” the man said, grinning slightly as he looked down upon his Master. “Well, that’s no good, I guess we’ll have to start the curriculum from the beginning?”

Achilles, the heroic spirit in front of him, was mumbling to himself now, and it was really making Waver worried. He didn’t know what kind of curriculum some famous hero from the past would have, but knowing the standards in ancient times, it would likely be hellish for he who was used to a more laid back and modern lifestyle.

Opening his mouth to protest again the young magus grimaced as he felt a burning sensation now appearing on his left hand. He looked down for a brief moment, realizing a second pair of Command Seals had appeared on his hand before a bright flash of light began at the summoning circle again. The mist, nearly cleared now, clawed at the grass that poked out from beneath it as it was dragged violently back to within the circle. A second rumble of thunder came from the sky, followed by an even brighter flash and Waver cried out as he was nearly blinded by a second burst of light, all within the same damned hour.

The mist, swirling within the confines of the circle swirled against its boundary again, before spilling out all over again onto the clearing as a second form appeared within the circle. As the mist fully cleared the young magus got a clear look at the second Servant within the circle.

Pink hair, clear white skin, a happy go lucky smile on his face. There was a sort of feminine beauty to the figure, but the slim warrior seemed to take everything in with their eyes, a pink color to the irises. This one was wearing light armor, mostly black colored leathers with thick heavy pieces of steel on the arms shoulders and thick metal gauntlets adorning their hands. A white and gold cloak around his back. Two black ribbons were tied to the sides of the head, accentuating the face, and the chain mail he was wearing ended in a sort of skirt design. A golden collar around his neck also seemed to frame his face, calling to his feminine features that was the softness of his face. White and gold leather boots were around his feet and thin black socks went halfway up his thighs.

“Hi, hi! Rider class Servant, Astolfo here!” the figure said, making a peace sign with their hands near their eyes and a big grin on their face.

Waver looked over to Achilles and saw the man was ready, a thin silver colored spear had appeared in his hands, and he was in a stance that promised immediate violence should anyone take the wrong move. His once smiling face looked to be made of stone now, a severe contrast to his previous attitude.

 _So this is what a Servant looks like when they’re ready to battle,_ Waver thought to himself with a chill running up his spine.

“Hmmm?” the knight called Astolfo said, looking around, shielding their eyes as if the sun were blazing above. “I see someone who could be my Master over there... But that can’t be, especially if they already have one... MASTER! ARE YOU HERE?!”

Looking around and not even paying attention to the pair standing in front of him the knight stepped towards the edge before the greek warrior growled a warning. There was something about not fighting someone just summoned by a circle that most Servants held as a standard issue of pride. But it promised that once the figure stepped out of the circle, they’d be attacked.

“Oooh, scary scary,” the figure cackled, looking over with mirth at the figure holding their place inside the circle. “I can tell there aren’t any other Servants here... which means that guy is my Master. You mind letting him go for little old me?”

“Not gonna happen,” the green haired man said, a flat denial matching the cold hard look in his golden eyes. “I’m sorry to tell you, but Master and I have already formed a proper contract.”

“I figured you’d say that,” the pink haired warrior said with a sigh, rubbing at the back of their head. “Well, I’ve never heard of anyone summoning two Servants before, at least not when it belongs to a single Master...”

Still trying to think the strange knight seemed to be mumbling to themselves as they tried to think this strange situation through.

“Dammit, where’s Oliver when you need him to explain all the complicated stuff...?” still thinking, Astolfo was pacing the circle as they thought things through. Then, as if a sudden burst of inspiration struck, the struck their fist on the open palm of their other hand. “If he summoned two Servants then that must make this a preliminary round!”

Within a heartbeat the figure in the circle had summoned what looked like a jousting lance and rushed at the other figure, bringing it down heavily on the greek hero with a jump, allowing not only his strength but gravity to aid him in the strike, he smiled a bright, yet oddly cold, smile.

“I just gotta beat you, then we can continue on with this war!” the figure said, as if some kind of mad logic had possessed him. “Don’t worry Master! I’ll save you from this jerk real quick!”

The figures fought, flashes of light coming from them as their weapons met in a superfast flash of movement. He could barely keep up with them, only seeing the outlines of their forms when they clashed for a spare moment before going back to their rapid combat. The clangs of weapons meeting were reverberating through the thin barrier he’d set up. He hadn’t expected any kind of real combat here, so he’d made barely a barrier. Something to subconsciously keep the curious away, but with how much attention would be drawn if the people began to complain and gather. That much direct attention couldn’t be thwarted by the subtle forces of his barrier.

“Hey! STOP!” the young magus yelled while the pair sparred. Achilles stopped first, looking over at his master with a question in his eyes.

“Haha! Got you!” the higher pitched voice of Astolfo yelled as he sent another downward swing with his spear at Achilles’ head. The man parried the blow, sending it and the other servant stumbling off to the side, only to have a swift kick to the midsection send the pink haired knight flying into the woods and brush nearby. “Ow, ow, ow, that hurt...”

“Come on Master,” the greek warrior said, helping his master back to his feet before turning his back on the other Servant now. “We should leave this one. Without a proper Master he’ll disappear soon anyway.”

“Wait!” the voice yelled from behind them. The pink haired knight had just dislodged himself from the brush. Sticks in his hair and leaves sticking to his once pristine armor. “Please! I.. I...”

“Come, Master,” the man repeated, glaring at the other Rider that stood dejectedly in front of them. Waver looked back over and looked at the other Servant, seeing a nervous energy about him.

“I’m begging you, Master,” the Servant tried again, dusting off his chainmail skirt. “I swear I won’t cause you any problems! I... I was always the fool. Do you know what it’s like to be treated like a fool or a dumb bumpkin, Master?”

This was the attack point the young knight had decided to take, in the briefest moment of sanity available to him. Waver felt something shift in his perspective. Had he been treated like a fool? Daily in the Clock Tower, the other mages had. Those from the more prestigious bloodlines had treated him worse though, like he was nothing. Being treated like a fool, at the very least, had always fired him up to prove them how very wrong they were. Being treated as nonexistent, however, was harder to fight. Unless he came up with something big, something that there was no possible way for them to ignore, then he’d never be at least recognized as a fellow mage by any of them.

“Master?” the greek hero said, looking at his master.

“Achilles,” the dark haired magus said, looking back at the Servant with clear eyes. He almost missed the other Servant flinch at the use of his own name. “I won’t leave Astolfo.”

“Master,” the hero tried again, looking him clear in the face, trying to see any wavering in the decision his young Master had just made. “You can’t support two Servants, you know. At least not with your Magic Circuits the way they are.”

“I won’t leave Astolfo,” the boy repeated, then he raised both his hands showing the Heroic Spirit the twin pairs of Command Seals on his hands. “If there isn’t another Master here, then it must have been my true talent and genius that brought the both of you here in the first place. One thing you’ll learn about me is that I may not be good at this, but I learn quickly and I never leave something half done.”

Achilles sighed, looking at the pink haired Servant that stood sheepishly off to the side, waiting for the verdict, then back to his Master. The young man hadn’t shown any hesitation in his decision. He’d made up his mind and there was little the greek hero could do to dissuade him. He wished he’d listened to his teacher’s lessons on fostering those who travelled with you into fine heroes. If he had he may have had the words to express what he wanted to, that this was a bad idea, that this was foolish and dangerous. But when the kid had the same look he had before he’d headed to Troy, there wasn’t any way he could really talk the kid out of it. He know he wouldn’t have been able to be persuaded otherwise in his time.

“Fine,” the greek hero said, turning back to the other Servant. “You probably know this, but there’s only one wish for a Servant and one for the Master. When the time comes, I’ll come out against you at the end, then we’ll have our rematch. If you can follow the kid’s instructions, then I’ll accept you coming with us.”

“Yay!” Astolfo yelled with a big grin, and ran up to hug the young Master to whom he’d been summoned. “You won’t regret this Master! I promise!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They immediately regretted it...
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is, in my opinion, a little below my usual standard so sorry about that. This was a difficult chapter for me to work out smoothly, and it was difficult to get the conflict I felt would happen and have it work out without Astolfo turning into a stalker. So this is the compromise I came up with.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!


	6. Like a Worm from a Bird

The young man’s body screamed, every nerve set to a constant burning or tearing sensation. Under his skin he could feel the worms crawling, slowly feeding on his magical circuits in a slow, inexhaustible climb to the Command seals on his right hand. He gasped for breath, as if the air itself was rejecting his newest existence and was attempting to smother him to death. His left leg was almost useless, but blessedly had gotten to the point where he couldn’t even feel it anymore. It was like a piece of wood had been strapped to him in the place where his leg had once been, his left arm was in a similar state, though he could still feel the sensations of the worms moving and feeding he couldn’t feel any pain or other sensations there anymore. His left eye had long since gone blind, and he was too afraid to look in the mirror to see if it had actually rotted away like it felt like it had done.

As he made his way slowly down the stone steps to the basement where the pit of worms his father had set up for Sakura lay he felt a tremor in his heart, as fear rushed to the forefront. He grimaced, stopping for a moment to control himself. Not only anger, but fear or any other strong emotions would begin to agitate the Crest Worms within him, making it so they would begin to consume his Circuits even faster. Anger, however, was the one that the Crest Worms most resonated with, so it would cause them to go on a literal feeding frenzy if he felt that particular emotion strongly. He already had a week at most, if he didn’t manage to win the grail in that time Zouken would continue the process to turn Sakura into his perfect vessel. He couldn’t understand what it was that Tokiomi had been thinking, selling out Aoi’s daughter to the old vampire.

He would make Tokiomi pay in this war, he’d make certain of it.

Finally making his way down the long flight of stairs, he saw the old vampire standing with his cane at the bottom of the stairs. The old man was a shrivelled husk of what he’d once been, completely bald and hunched over. His eyes had long since sunk into his skull, making them thick black shadowy points deep below his brow. The old man grinned, though that had always meant something unpleasant had come to the crazy old bastard’s mind. The man was a strict and harsh teacher, always teaching his family and students in warfare and tactics alongside magic, and he was always willing to accentuate the lessons and points he made with some good old fashioned physical abuse.

This was all in the name of winning the Holy Grail in the next war, which made the lessons and beatings seem even more callous and cold, as if they were simply a means to an end for him and he didn’t take much enjoyment in them when he’d had to inflict them. Though, this time, because he’d been ‘teaching’ his rebellious son who had run away for years to cut himself off from the family he seemed to take a particular joy in the ‘lessons.’

“Good, you’ve finally arrived, Kariya,” the old man said, sounding like a wheezing gasp of air escaping a container with how softly he was speaking. The old man looked at him, the dark orbs seeming to weigh him in all his aspects. A simple shaking of his head told him he’d not nearly cleared the marks the old man had set for him. “Did you at least memorize the summoning ritual?”

“Yes,” the young man said, holding his face passive. He felt a burning anger simmering deep below, but closed his eyes and took a deep breath for a moment before it cleared. “I have done as you asked, Zouken.”

“Good,” the old man said, the wide smile of a carnivore before prey spread across his face as he looked over his pitiable son. “Then I shall oversee the ritual itself while you perform it, though you will be the one in charge of the full summoning.”

“Of course,” the man said, bowing slightly with his good arm to his chest. “Father.”

The disdain in his voice made the old man look back over to him with that same grin still planted on his face. He brought out a cushion of sorts, red velvet with a blue and gold trim cloth above it. He’d prepared the catalyst out of sight of the broken man, keeping him guessing on what, exactly, he’d be summoning here.

“I’ve gotten you quite the rare gift for this war, you see,” the old man said, a hissing rasp at the end of his sentences grinding at his teeth and mind. “I managed to find a suitable Catalyst, as well as something to make them more manageable.”

Kariya stayed silent, watching his father quietly. He knew the man wanted him to ask what kind of gift he’d gotten for his son, but little rebellious acts like this were all he could manage these days. He just hoped his legs remained strong below him, collapsing in front of Zouken, or showing any other kinds of weakness, would get one eaten alive both metaphorically and literally.

“Tch,” the old man tsked, dropping the smile before pulling the cloth aside. With his remaining good eye the dead man saw what looked like a page of ancient paper, with blueprints on it and the name ‘Eve’ printed at the top. “I have received the blueprints for the first Human, Eve.”

The makeshift Magus couldn’t help but be surprised, no doubt there was some kind of catch here. Obviously something would be wrong with her, something strange or altered in some way to make it more difficult for him to control.

“Now, when you summon using the ritual you will be adding two lines to the incantation,” the old man rasped. And there it was, the final piece to drag him down. His father didn’t expect him to truly win, not with what little time he had remaining to him. “You will be adding the attribute Madness to your Servant.”

“Why?”

“Well, Kariya,” the old man said, a wicked looking grin spreading across his face again. “Since you were quite the rush job, and you’ve failed to continue practicing while separated from the family, you will, unfortunately, drag your Servants Parameters down. To counteract this, we will be forcing you into a contract with Berserker, which will bring her own Parameters back up to a point where you could actually win.”

“Right,” the young man said, the bitter taste of his Father actually caring revolting to his very core. “You’re doing all this for me, father.”

“I’m glad you understand, Kariya,” the man said, ignoring the fact that his son was mocking him. The old vampire was almost impossible to understand, let alone to guess why he did what he did. Maybe if he’d ever gotten to the age that Zouken was, he’d have understood. “Now, continuing off where we left off, you’re to these lines to the ritual, right before the final stanza. Do you think you can do that for me, Kariya?”

Holding out a sheet of paper for him, he looked it over and read the lines quietly to himself. Thinking back on the ritual, he could see where the old man wanted him to put it and grimaced. Zouken seemed to be watching his son with a small smile, not the usual proud smile one would receive from their father, but rather the kind one sees from a child who found themselves in possession of an entertaining toy, one that they don’t care if they break with their rough play or not.

“Now then, you will begin the ritual,” the old man said, giving him a few minutes to look over where the incantation was supposed to go in the ritual. “I have prepared some chains, as well, to guarantee the Servant’s supplication to you, so worry not, Kariya.”

The young man grumbled as he watched Zouken place the blueprints into place near the head of the ritual circle, which had been prepared for him. He held out his good hand, making sure his mana flowed into the circle so that he would retain the right to mastery of the Servant that would be summoned. Then he limped a bit closer, to be at what would be considered the base of the ritual, on the opposite side of the artifact. He saw a pair of great manacles, which were placed around the blueprints in a circle, as if to create a second miniature circle around it. As the old man stepped back and to the side, to be far enough away from the circle to not directly affect it himself. He seemed happy to wait, as if he had all the time in the world.

“Heed my words, My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny,” the young man started, the agitation of the worms inside him as his own mana began to flow out of him and into the circle itself, a soft light beginning to coalesce around the edges of it. “If you heed the Grails call, and obey my will and reason, then answer my summoning!”

The light, having begun to coalesce at the edges of the black circle his father had made of the blood of countless Crest Worms, slowly moved in towards the center. He could feel the worms inside him writhing, as some of them were forced to use their own mana to help supply his own. The feeling of it burned, the same kind of feeling in one’s joints and muscles after working out, and yet he got no good feeling from this acidic feeling flowing inside his body. He knew that some of the worms would die from this, causing further breakdowns of his body and muscles as they rotted away within his body, but he still needed to finish the incantation.

“I hereby swear, that I shall be all good in the world, and that I shall defeat all evil in the world!” the makeshift magus yelled, a sudden burst of pressure from within the circle causing him to finally notice that a thick mist had coalesced fully within the circle. It slammed against the edges, as if trying to break free from its cage and the broken man smiled. “Let thine eyes be clouded with the fog of turmoil and chaos! Thou who art trapped within a cage of madness. And I, the summoner, who holds thy chains!”

The mist slowed down for a moment, then redoubled its efforts to escape, as if using that particular incantation had agitated it beyond any kind of calmness that might have come from the summoned spirit being dragged from the Throne by force now.

“Seventh heaven clad in the great words of power!” the young man yelled, even with his own throat screaming in agony at the overuse. “Come forth from the circle of bindings, Guardian of the Scales!”

A flash of light and a burst of power caused a sudden burst below his skin, causing blood to pop out from him, like a water bottle under intense pressure. He coughed, blood coming up and out of his mouth onto the stone floor below and he could feel the blood leaking from the corner of his good eye. Grimacing, the flash had ended and the mist was already leaking out. He saw a woman inside the circle, wearing a white bridal dress with a black shawl on the top of her head. A gold horn was coming from her forehead and a pair of blocks of pure gold lay on her head where her ears should have been. Her hair was a burgundy color, and covered both her eyes, and the pale skin of her face and the upper parts of her arms accentuated a softness to her. She was holding what looked like a mace of bronze while she bowed before him, and she slowly looked up. The bangs were hiding a majority of her eyes, but he could tell from when she cocked her head to the side curiously that she had heterochromia, the left being blue and the right being a gold color. He wondered in her beauty for a moment, before grimacing as a sudden spike of pain came to his chest.

“Uuuh,” the woman said, a soundless grunt as she rushed forwards to check on him. She looked him directly in the face, then flinched and turned as the clapping of his father resounded in the ancient tomb.

“Well done, Kariya,” the man said, a vile looking grin on his face. “You shall do well in this war, since you have Eve on your side.

“Uh,” the woman said, tensing as if she was going to attack the old vampire in front of her. She seemed tense, as if something about the old man set her on edge, and even though the mace was low, it was still in a position of readiness if she decided to attack.

“Berserker,” Kariya said, a tired sigh coming to his voice. He didn’t doubt the old man could survive somehow, even if a Servant was used against him. “Don’t. That man is my... father.”

The woman in the wedding dress turned to look at him quizzically, she could no doubt feel his hatred towards the man, but the fact that her Master didn’t act made her cock her head again to the side. She didn’t lower her stance, as if she was still ready to attack, but he could feel a softening of her own rage through their bond.

A sudden flash of light from the circle made the old vampire step back from it, as if he’d been afraid he was to be bisected by the ritual itself if he touched the barrier. The worms inside of him writhed once again, causing him to cry out in sudden pain as the mist once again coalesced within the circle. Then it broke through after a few moments to reveal a great hulking man standing before them. The makeshift magus’ eyes opened wide at the figure, marvelling in the raw physical power in him.

Grey skin poked out from beneath the thin webbing of steel that covered his face, chest and legs. He was barefoot and had only small basic steel covering the front of his shins. His blond hair was tied in a ponytail in the back and his blue colored eyes glowed with a rabid mania. A small steel sword was already in his hands and he looked ready for the briefest moment of excuse to exact violence on those around him. The old man turned, looking at his son, then back to the stray Servant in front of them. 

“Servant Berserker, My name is... Spartacus,” the man said, grinning and switching his gaze between Kariya and his father, as if setting them against each other in his mind simply by looking them over. “Ahh, I see what this is. Oppression.”

Turning quickly he launched himself at the old man, who tried to use magic to defend himself. The blade the Servant wielded was an ordinary one, with no name or any notable deeds to its name, but it was more than enough to rend the old man to pieces within a handful of moments. Zouken screamed, pain and horror coming out in his cries for Kariya to do something. But the son just looked coldy down upon his father, dying in this cold dead place, and found himself feeling a sense of justice coming down on the old vampire.

Within a few minutes there was nothing left of the man that was called Zouken, even the bugs that made up his human form were smashed beneath the gladiator’s rampage. The young magus felt a sense of relief, of freedom he could have never imagined wash over him, even when he’d run away he’d still had to look over his shoulders to make certain Zouken wasn’t trying to drag him back.

Spartacus turned to him and smiled, a wide maddening smile.

“I have crushed this oppressor, Master,” the man said, black colored blood still splattered all over his face. “But I sense there are more to be found in this place.”

“Yes, Berserker,” Kariya said, an image of Tokiomi coming to his mind. If the elegant magus who played with his own offspring’s future wasn’t an oppressor, he really didn’t know what was. “We should leave this place and hunt down the next oppressor.”

“Ahhh! Just as I’d expect of a fellow rebell!” the man said, a wide grin coming across his face. He felt a hand grasping at his bad arm and looked down to see Eve looking up at him, a look of surprise and worry emulated on her face, though her eyes didn’t reflect this.

“Don’t worry,” the young man said, looking the woman in the eye so she could see all he was feeling now. “I’ll take care of you.”

He didn’t know why the grail had sent him two Servants, but he felt immensely confident in himself now. He’d heard from his father how unstoppable Berserkers could be, both for the Master using them and for those who opposed them. His first plan of action was to find a place nearby to hide, he’d be bringing Sakura along. This place would hold traumatizing memories for her, after all. He’d have Eve guard the girl, while he and Spartacus went out on the battlefield. Once they’d won the grail, he’d use his wish to heal his ravaged body, and he’d run away with Sakura, Rin and Aoi.

With a weary smile on his face he hobbled up the stairs, at least until Eve decided to bridal carry him up the stairs.


	7. Molded Like the Clay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small warning, this chapter is a little graphic, and may go above what some would consider the usual Teen label.
> 
> If you are sensitive to the topics of Child Murder, Watching someone die with their organs on full display, or seeing things from a Serial Killer's perspective, then I would recommend skipping this chapter.

The young man smiled as he looked over his work here. He’d felt the thrill again, taking out this family. Even the fact that there had been extra people here, probably siblings and cousins, hadn’t stopped him, hell it had barely slowed him down. Grinning he finished collecting the blood from the corpses that surrounded him. A small sound drew his attention to the corner, where a small boy with brown hair and eyes lay tied up. The boy, probably no more than ten years old, had seen what he’d done to his family.

He’d seen the orange haired killer break the two men that were in the house, seen him kill the woman with long brown hair, no doubt the boy’s mother, by cutting her open after beating her. He’d watched her organs fail as she gasped for breath through broken teeth and shattered ribs that had pierced through the lungs. Seen the heart take its final, fleeting beats as the shock of pain and loss of blood caused her to shut down. He’d taken joy in killing the twin girls that had been weakly crying for their own mother, who he’d started to kill in front of her. The other woman, a blond haired foreigner had begged in some tongue he didn’t understand, and he’d been annoyed when she’d tried to distract him as he was finishing up. She’d made him miss the best part, the part where the light faded from one of the girl’s eyes.

Ryuunosuke Uryuu had paid her back for that, gouging out her eyes with his thumbs, bringing a primal scream of agony from the woman, before he’d cut into her carotid and drained her of her blood. He’d turned just in time to see the light fade from the second twin girl, and sighed contentedly. That was when he’d heard the bump in the corner, behind the counter of the kitchen.

Following his gut, the purple vested man had walked over, quietly, and surprised the little boy. He had screamed, fear and terror driving him to grab for a knife that was left on the counter. His shaky little child hands holding it in front of him. He’d managed to subdue the kid, and had managed to do so without getting himself hurt too badly, though a shallow cut near his wrist still hurt a little.

Tying up the kid, and having him come back to consciousness just in time for the circle to finish being filled in had brought him a sort of joy. At first he’d wanted to kill the kid, just to see what kind of death the kid would have, but he’d had a better idea.

Filling in the circle, while the kid struggled, hadn’t been hard. The orange haired killer grinned as he’d seen the ritual come to fruition as he’d finally finished drawing it with one of his feet. He turned towards the boy, seeing him writhe in pain and fear as he approached. He pulled up one of the wooden chairs and placed it, back facing to the boy, as he walked up to the shivering child.

“Yknow, it’s pretty rude they’re calling me a demon,” the man said, a wistful sigh on his face as he looked back at the television screen as they tried to analyze his actions. The last three times he’d tried this ritual, it had failed, but something about this time and this house made him feel like his luck was going to turn around. “Couldn’t it be considered an insult to actual demons?”

Bending down with his knees he saluted in front of the boy now, a look of insane glee on his face.

“Hello, my name is Ryuunosuke Uryuu, and I’m a demon!” sighing the orange haired man put his hand to his chin as he dropped the happy look on his face. “It just doesn’t sound right, does it kid?”

The child, for his own part, looked in horror at the man who had killed his family, tears welling up in his eyes as he tried to process what the older man was saying.

“But look at this!” the man said, holding a book in front of the kid’s face now. It was old, smelling musty and the words the child could make out looked faded and the paper itself was yellowed in color. “I found this in the warehouse our family manage. Turns out some of my ancestors were trying to summon demons, so I knew I had to try it out!”

The pale Serial killer turned from the boy and went back to the chair, sitting down on it backwards to face the kid.

“So I figured it was a bad idea to just summon one without a plan, yknow,” the man continued, rambling now as he smiled at the child, a cold dead smile that one puts forwards to at least seem normal. “You hear stories about it all the time. A demon comes and you don’t have the proper kind of offering, so they just eat you instead. But, well, that wouldn’t go well with my plans, so could you do me a favor and let it eat you, kid?”

The boy, having had all of his sense in the situation fly right out the window when the killer had come and slaughtered his family, finally caught the words the man was saying to him and his eyes widened. A panicked shriek, muffled heavily by the gage around his mouth, was his reply. Along with squirming like a worm towards another end of the room. With his arms and legs tied up, he couldn’t manage much, but the boy’s resistance caused Ryuunosuke to break out laughing, rocking his own chair back and forth.

“I wonder what it’s like to be eaten by a demon! It’s so exciting, I gotta make sure I watch care... Ouch,” the man stopped rocking the chair and laughing, looking at his right hand and seeing a strange sigil in the color of blood appear on his hand. 

Suddenly, the ritual circle behind him flashed, no great thundering roar coming from it, and it cleared to reveal a man in purple and gold armor. A great gold mask, in a diamond shape, on his face and his legs ending in sharp points of gold. His hands golden gloves, ending in claws, and his chest covered in strange patterns that looked like eyes in the center of four pointed diamonds. The stranger looked over the place, showing a disgust in his summoning surroundings and turning to the man on the chair in front of him.

“I have been summoned,” the man intoned, his solemn sounding voice reverberating slightly from behind his mask. “I am the Servant, Caster, and I am here to fight for you in the Holy Grail War, Master.”

There seemed to be a dangerous undertone to the man’s speech, but the Serial Killer didn’t pick up on it as he looked over the man that had suddenly appeared before him. He could feel something from the man, a strange sort of pressure he was giving off in waves like a beating heart in front of him. He’d honestly never expected the ritual to even work, let alone for someone in such cool looking clothes to show up before him.

“Holy Grail...?” Ryuunosuke said, scratching at the back of his head confusedly. Shaking his head, he half turned back towards the kid that lay on the ground in front of them, waving his hand in a big arc to the kid. “No, nevermind. How about a quick bite to eat, then we talk about some stuff?”

The armored figure looked over the boy, huddled in fear in front of him, and felt something strange from the boy, a sort of presence similar to his own Master that stood in front of him. He could tell the boy had the capability of using magecraft, though from what he could tell from the remains of those in the messy little living room, none of them had actively practiced, so the boy would go to waste here. Shaking his head, he looked over his Master and then nodded his assent. This would work well towards his own personal goal of summoning Adam, no matter how distasteful the actual actions would be.

Caster brought a small greyish seed from his sleeve, it almost looked like clay, and stepped forwards towards the boy. The kid, for his part, screamed in terror as the man approached, crawling further back until he hit the wall and was cut off from escape.

“Shh, quiet now child,” the man in the armor said, a small sense of peace radiating from him. “This will let you see a sweet dream, and when you wake up all this will be over.”

Pulling the gag from his face the boy, a dazed look on his face now, obediently opened his mouth. The seed swallowed in one go, before his eyes snapped back into focus. The veins on his face began to bulge and he screamed, pain and rage going through him as his body writhed. Snapping the tape around his arms he clawed at the floor, leaving bloody trails as his nails were shattered and torn against the hard wooden flooring.

Screaming in agony he felt the seed suddenly sprout in him, a thick greyish matter bursting from his poors to slowly cover his flesh. Then, the flow of it stopped, and he screamed a new, higher pitch scream as his body rejected whatever it was that he had been given. His arms snapped, with a sickening sound as the clay that had sprouted inside him bulged beneath his flesh. Then his cries suddenly cut off as his lungs were crushed. He writhed, his body lashing out in random directions, before settling as the boy died like a candle being blown out.

“Hmm, a failure, huh?” the man said, a wistful sigh on his face as he stepped back from the boy and turned back to his Master. “I am sorry for such a weak display, Master...”

The man had started, meaning to apologize, but Ryuunosuke interrupted him with a gleeful cry.

“THAT WAS SO COOOOOL!” the young man yelled, a gleeful look lighting his eyes. He took the man’s clawed hands and shook them with vigorous swings. “I don’t really understand that crap about the Holy Grail! But I’m with you, from now on! I’ll bring you more people, I wanna see whatever it is you can show me about Death!”

The golden masked man took a step back, confused by the excitement in the man’s voice. He’d been summoned to fight in a Holy Grail War, right? Why was his Master this way? He didn’t really want to kill indiscriminately, but at the same time sometimes sacrifices had to be made so that he could finish his ultimate goal.

A second flash of light stopped these questions mid thought, as the summoning circle lit up again and a second figure appeared out of it. This time a middle aged man with green clothes and a thick flowing cape. He was wearing more european medieval clothing and had a thick red cloth tied around his throat under his woolen color. Thick brown hair, slicked back, matched his beard and eyes, and he had a sharp, hawkish face. The man was holding a book and looked over the scene before him.

Ryuunosuke Uryuu hissed again, seeing a second sigil appear on the opposite hand this time, this one was different, It looked like scrawling writing of an ancient language, curved and sleek and elegant. He felt himself almost entranced in them, only being broken out of it by the stranger before him speaking.

“Oh, I see, I see,” the man said, excitedly looking over the book he had in his hand and, after a few moments, snapped it closed with his hand and looked back to his Master. “If this isn’t truly the scene of some great tragedy, then I, William Shakespeare, shall retire away my quills and inks.”

The figure of Caster before the Serial Killer seemed to flinch slightly, then he stood in front of his Master.

“What do you want here?” the man in the gold mask asked. “What is your goal?”

“Oh me?” the foppish man said, a great grin spreading across his face. “I am simply a writer of tragedies, and the boy you’re hiding behind you has the smell of a great one about him.”

“Is that a threat?” Caster asked, a gravelly undertone to his voice now. He could survive without a Master, but it was better if he had one so he could devote more time for finding the perfect vessel for Adam.

“No, most assuredly not!” the writer said, a broad grin spreading across his face. “I merely wish to document it. Worry not, I shall not get into yours, or Master’s, way while I write about your grand adventure during the war.”

The Golem Master sighed, turning back to his Master, then the strange looking author, then shook his head and lowered his guard slightly.

“Fine then,” the man said, a weary sigh to his voice. He’d never been good with interacting with more than one or two people at a time, and it was always so exhausting. “Come Master, I recommend we leave this place shortly, the screaming has no doubt alerted others to our presence here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TLDR: Ryuunosuke got himself a Golem Master and a Writer of Tragedies.
> 
> This chapter was a little rough to write, but I think it turned out alright even with the conflicting personalities of the characters used. Avicebron still doesn't really trust a Serial Killer, but sees a way to benefit from it, so he's going to do his best. Shakespeare, on the other hand, is mostly just along for the ride.


	8. Black Hole Sun

The light of the workshop flickered slightly, even as the robed pair entered. The briny smell of salt water wafted through the abandoned warehouse that had been converted for their purpose. The Leyline here was fairly close to the surface, likely having only shifted recently. It would be shifting back down, deep beneath the earth soon, like a varicose vein coming to the surface of the flesh before eventually settling back down in its proper place with care and tending.

The woman huffed, she was from an esteemed family, and their own time had been wasted since her darling husband’s catalyst had been stolen from him. She thought about the fury on the man’s face and smiled slightly, though she could still sense he was seething with rage. He had planned his revenge out, he’d find out who stole his artifacts and kill them slowly, the war being the pretense for whatever he did to the poor fool. The thoughts of someone stealing priceless artifacts for money hadn’t even entered the arrogant man’s head.

Still, she was forced by her family to support this man, since they had decided to tie their own fates to him with the betrothal. She’d done her best, playing the part of the caring wife, and it was her duty as a magus to continue her own bloodline and pass down her own talents.

That hadn’t stopped her from seeking other, more manageable, lovers in the meantime though.

Her infidelity had managed to stay her own secret, and her own talent with magic had mitigated the risk, leaving each of her lovers with a different impression of her looks and personality, and she’d had her fun. But all things good must end, and once this war was over she was to go back and they would be finally married. Her prospects for entertainment from that point were... slim.

Sighing in frustration Kayneth in front of her brought the artifact he’d prepared ahead of time forwards. It was the head of a spear, rusted with blood, and a second artifact had also been sent to him separately, so that he couldn’t have both stolen this time. Even with all his flaws the redhead had to admit that the man was thorough, at least usually.

“All it takes is a single moment of carelessness,” her father’s voice echoed in her head. He’d always brought this up while she’d learned the basics of magic from him. He’d been dedicated in making sure all his children could use magic, to be better trading pieces for when he actually chose his inheritor. “And all your past missteps will come crashing down upon you.”

The old man was wise, sure, but a great father he was not.

“Sola-Ui,” the man said, lowering his hood and nodding to her. His normally shoulder length hair slicked back with gel and his pale skin almost glowing in the night air. His piercing blue eyes had, once upon a time, stolen her heart but now she hated how they softened when he looked at her. He was far too serious about everything, even her, and she hated feeling coddled. The danger of random liaisons were generally about as dangerous as she was willing to get, but she was happy he was finally showing some spine with the war. “I’ll prepare the catalysts, go ahead and get the circle ready.”

“Yes,” the woman said, lowering her own hood. She was wearing her regular white and red motif, better to match her blazing red hair, and her black colored pants were stylish. She usually wore this whenever she was to go out to town for her meetings, and she took a small amount of pleasure that she was wearing this around her betrothed.

Taking the mercury they had prepared she spilled the first vial on the ground and fed it her mana. The first vial automatically formed the outer ring of the ritual space, a small amount flowing from it to form the words for the ritual. Some of them were altered in a way that allowed for her to supply the mana costs for the Servant alongside her husband, allowing for him to use more of his own magic. He’d been studying how to fully change it, but hadn’t seemed to make the proper progress in time for the ritual. For all his faults, she had to admit her husband had earned his reputation as a magus. 

The second vial flowed past the first into the first inner ring, hardly disturbing the outside barrier with more than a simple ripple of movement. She smiled at it again, seeing it take proper shape once she poured some of her own Mana into the liquid metal. She repeated the process with the remaining three vials until it had taken its proper shape, and turned to see Kayneth inspecting it with a cold, critical look on his face. 

“Well done,” the man said simply, now looking back towards the stake he’d set at the head of the ritual. The other artifact, an arrow that was melted by some great heat, was set off to the side, away from the circle so as not to interfere. He’d had his choice of the pair and apparently had gone with the stake, since he’d had a particular idea on who he was going to summon here. “It’s time, we should start.”

The ritual took all of five minutes to complete, she pumped her mana into the circle, alongside her husband leading the chant. He’d have technical control, receiving the command seals, while she would be the one who carried the brunt of the mana cost. It was his plan, the thing that would give them an advantage according to Kayneth.

Her haughty betrothed grinned as he finished the verse and the circle lit up, a bright blue light coming from the circle itself as the barrier closed up around it. Inside, the mist began welling up as the sound of thunder rumbled above. Grinning to herself she felt the sudden pull of mana from her to the Servant within. The ritual had been successful, she had been a part of it. The thrill of it rushing through her nerves as the light suddenly snuffed out and the mist began rolling from the center of the circle.

A man in black, with long blond hair that ended in teal at the tips of his long, shoulder length hair, stood in the center. His pale skin and and yellow colored eyes chilling her with their stone and cold look around the circle. He had thick boots and there was gold embroidered up his spine and on the outlines of his thick black colored cloak. He looked like a coldblooded aristocrat, just the kind of Servant that Kayneth would summon.

“Servant, Lancer,” the man intoned, not bowing before the pair in front of them. Kayneth looked ecstatic, his usual calm and cold demeanor that he held to himself was gone, consumed in the joy of properly finishing the ritual. He’d always been something of a magic enthusiast, and always had a strange glee to him when he succeeded. “My name is Vlad Tepis, rightful ruler of Wallachia. I have come at your request, to seek the grail and grind the other pretenders beneath my heel.”

The man stepped out of the circle, looking between the pair of them, as if trying to deduce exactly what was going on here. He noticed the redhead, feeling her connection to him through their bond of mana, and then looked at Kayneth and looked surprised, he must have felt the pull of the Command Seals from him.

“Ahh, I see,” Vlad the Impaler said, a grin on his face, stretching the skin across his face and giving a grim reminder of how thin the Servant was. “A rather clever trick, Master. I applaud the efforts given. This strategy shall surely give us more opportunities for victory.”

“I’m glad, Lancer,” Kayneth said, regaining control of himself. He held himself tall and proud, as if eager to prove himself here. He’d done this for nothing more than entertainment, something the common folk would call ‘putting it on your resume’ and he’d been furious that his distraction had been sidelined. But now, knowing him as Sola-Ui did, he no doubt felt more in control of things. “With you, as my Servant, there’s no doubt we will win.”

A sudden spark from the circle brought all of their attentions back to the ritual. The blue light, now tainted with flecks of reddish dust rising from it. The redhead covered her eyes as the blinding flash came, but she just made out Vlad standing proudly forwards with a golden spear in his hands and his arm outstretched in front of his Master.

The woman hissed in pain as the right hand she held to shield her face suddenly sparked with an unexpected, burning pain and Command Seals appeared on her hand. They were in the shape of a butterfly, the wings intricate and with countless veins in the center. The center like a worm with antennae at the top. She could have sworn she heard her betrothed gasp suddenly, as if in pain, and then a second blast of thunder hit them.

Once the light and mist cleared a man stood in the center, he was lean, with silver hair and pale skin. A red gem in the center of his bare chest. Shards of gold seemed to be embedded in his chest, in a pattern with the gem at the center. His eyes were a striking blue color, and he had a sharp face with a cold spiked collar around his neck. He was dressed in all black, with light gold colored armor covering his arms, as well as his thighs and his groin. A red cloak seemed to float from his back, not attached to him directly but seemed to revolve around him.

He looked at those gathered before them, seeing the two blond men on one side, and nodding to them, before stepping towards Sola-Ui. He bowed his head to her as he approached, even going down to a knee in front of her. She could feel the heat radiating from him, as if she was standing under the midday sun and not late at night, and something about him radiated not only power but confidence.

And yet, he seemed so meek and humble to her. Nothing at all like Kayneth.

“Servant, Lancer,” the man said, openly ignoring the pair behind him. “My name is Karna, and I have come to you, my Master, to win the Holy Grail for you.”

The trio stood in complete silence, the confusion and tension palpable in the air.

“What...” Kayneth said, anger flaring up in his eyes. Sola-Ui could see him growing angrier with each passing moment, and he seemed ready to blow.

Luckily for them all the blond Lancer spoke up.

“Excellent!” the man said, laughing a loud boisterous laugh. There was still a coldness to the manic look in his eyes, but he seemed to be enjoying this entire spectacle. “This is a truly well thought out strategy, my dearest Master! To alter the contract to the point where you not only summoned me, but a subordinate for me as well!”

Kayneth spluttered for a moment, a small fragment of anger still in his eyes as he looked at his beloved. This, to him, was a betrayal. Repeated upon him by some malignant curse or force. He’d root it out, when he had the opportunity to, but his eyes promised bloody vengeance.

“Y-yes, of course Lancer,” the man said, finally swallowing his pride as he looked back at the other Lancer. “We shall, of course, use him to the best of our abilities.”

“Good,” the golden haired man said, turning back towards the still bowing Lancer. A calculating look in his eyes and a deathly chill in his voice, barely breaking through the basking warmth given off by the Lancer wearing gold. “Will you follow my commands, Karna?”

“If my Master so commands,” the silver haired man said, head still bowed but his voice completely devoid of emotion. “Then I will do it.”

Sola-Ui saw her chance and grinned. She now technically had claim to the Grail, but if her suspicions were correct, then she couldn’t just remove Kayneth from the game, at least not yet.

“Of course, Kayneth,” the redhead said, a soft smile on her face as she looked back at her betrothed. “We shall follow your lead.”

With the Grail, she could do as she wished, she could free herself from the gilded cage her magecraft had built for her. And she wouldn’t even have to give up her precious magic to do so.

It was all coming together in her mind as they left the wharf and headed back to the hotel Kayneth had rented out. This would be a long Grail War, but with their own advantage of dual Servants, they could manage to ambush any who would come across their paths.


	9. Reaping What Has Been Sown

The night was young, and Ruler wanted to figure out when and where the summons were happening. Starting her walk through the streets she saw both wealth and squalor in equal parts and felt her heart tremble at it. She’d imagined, at least in the future, that the inequalities of the world would have evened out, though to be fair even those who lived on the streets still survived better than most of the war ravaged people from her time. Shaking her head she felt a sudden ping, as if a string was pulling at her in a direction towards the richer district of the city. Following her instinct, she could sense a Servant summoning was coming soon, the gathering of power making her hair stand up and a fuzzy feeling to spread across her body.

She’d found her way first to the great mansion at the top of the hill, a sprawling place that had screamed nobility to her own simple upbringing. Even in her disguised form, where she would appear as nothing more than a normal human being passing by, she had sensed the summoning from within the house. This had to have been the Tohsaka residence.

She hadn’t been able to get closer, having sensed the presence of a Servant near the street. She kept walking, and then, once well out of sight and range of the Servant had shifted back to her own spiritual form, suppressed to even below the level of a malignant spirit. When in that form she could make out an outline of the Servant, but not pick up exactly what it was, even with her Ruler enhancements. That pointed to an Assassin Servant being present. Once she approached, however, she’d met an entirely different kind of barrier. A revolving and spiraling series of spiritual lines rotated semi-randomly through the property, alerting those within of any kinds of spiritual intrusions, no matter the power or pressure they brought with them. Those with corporeal forms wouldn’t set them off, unless they had some kind of ill-intent for those within, but the Assassin would see them coming. Sighing, she decided to merely sit and watch for a bit.

After a short time she sensed the pressure from within the house ease, then, after another ten minutes or so, a man in priests’ garb exited the house, talking for a few moments with a man in red. The priest then nodded and made his way off the property, and she could see the outlines of another Servant near the man, once again their identity concealed from her. The second form turned and went towards the priest, then followed him off the property.

She could guess that the man was a Master, but why did he have two Servants with him? These questions made her desperately want to follow the man, but she held her ground as she felt another presence make itself known from the manor itself. This one she could actually identify as an Archer. She sighed, then made her way from the property, if one of the pair of Servants following the other man wasn’t from the owner of the home, then she had little recourse but to retreat for now. The irregularities in this war were beginning to stack up, and it was making her wonder what it was the Grail wanted from her here.

Within a couple hours she felt the pull of another summoning ritual and began moving towards the forested area just north of Fuyuki. She found a barrier, something a halfway competent magus had set up ahead of time to warn from spiritual intrusion, as well as to ward off non-magi from coming into the area. She smiled, this was how a Holy Grail War was supposed to be done.

Closing her eyes and focusing she sent herself back into spiritual form, and activating her class skill, Adjunct, she borrowed the Presence Concealment from the Assassin class. She could, of course, even borrow the personal skills of Servants, so long as they were still alive and active within the war, but since they weren’t tied to her own personal legend she’d be taking them at a serious demerit. This was the main advantage a Ruler had when properly summoned with a Master.

Moving slowly through the barrier she felt it cling to her flesh, like the webbing of a spider. Shaking herself free she looked back and saw that the field hadn’t been marred or torn, she sighed. She felt strange, when borrowing skills from another class, however she needed to do this, to be able to see who, exactly, was participating. She heard a sudden thunderclap, and knew the Master had summoned their Servant. Moving slowly but surely towards the well in power she felt another burst of pressure from within, the summoning was happening a second time in the same place, at least as far as she could tell.

Getting closer she heard the clanging of weapons and stepped up her pace a bit. Since she didn’t have any killing intent, at least not here, she could quicken her pace without losing concentration on her Presence Concealment. Finally, arriving at a clearing she saw a pair of familiar Servants before her.

One was the Rider with green hair from the Great Holy Grail War, a man of renown and skill and honor. She recognized Achilles, as well as his current opponent, the pink haired fool Astolfo. She grimaced, as memories flashed back to her from the War. From the way they were speaking and fighting she could tell they didn’t exactly recognize each other, but on an instinctual level they were able to anticipate each others’ moves, and even managed to come to mostly a standstill with each other.

Then the boy, a dark haired kid with eyes to match, in a green vest, black shirt and simple black slacks, yelled for them to stop. She wasn’t close enough to really hear them, but heard Astolfo’s yell of “You won’t regret this Master!” as the boy cleaned up the remainders of the catalysts. They had mostly been consumed in the summoning, at least as far as she could tell, but there was still enough left of them for her to tell exactly what they were.

Then, the trio made their way from the center of the forest, and back past the barrier. The frenchwoman sighed, then waited for a few minutes while this whole thing processed. She needed to think, the fact that this was truly an irregular war, even with her presence here, was beginning to sink in. Shaking her head she made her way towards the barrier to see it still up.

Smart lad.

The woman repeated her trick of flowing with and through the barrier without disrupting it, and headed back towards the heart of the city. She would need to think on this, at the church for a bit. At least, that had been her plan until she felt another call in the night. Another Servant summoning was happening in the city.

With a resigned sigh the blond woman ran towards the call in the distance, finding herself in front of what looked like a decrepit ancient castle in the center of town. Barriers around the edge were only aimed towards physical beings, warning them subconsciously to not enter or approach, and she saw a handful of familiars keeping watch for physical or spiritual intrusion. Though this area was better guarded than the forest, it was also less well guarded then the Tohsaka mansion.

Slipping past the barrier easily Ruler retained her hold on the Presence Concealment she’d borrowed and slipped inside, or at least tried to. Something built into the stone and glass and wood of the house seemed to repel the presence of spirits. She briefly sighed, then closed her eyes and concentrated again, searching for something to help her get inside. She found a skill, Information Erasure, and activated, alongside the borrowed Presence Concealment, and took her physical form. One of the familiars spotted her just as she stepped inside, and began to let out a warbling cry, then stopped as soon as she got out of sight.

She wasn’t sure exactly how this skill worked, but apparently it had done what she’d felt it should. Shaking her head she left the door open and once again took spiritual form as she wandered towards the basement where she felt the summoning was taking place. A sudden gasp of breath caused her to turn, seeing a purple haired girl with dead eyes staring right at her. She was surprised, something about the girl seemed off to her, but the girl seemed to be taking her entirety in, as if she could clearly see her in her spiritual form with her Presence Concealment.

“What... What are you doing here?” the girl asked the spirit, stepping back a little. She couldn’t tell how strong Ruler was, but she could tell she was a presence that shouldn’t be there.

Taking physical form again, she stood before the girl and smiled, still in her nun habit.

“Hello, dear child,” the woman said, a small smile across her face now. She could feel the climax of the summoning happening below and her eyesight flicked downwards towards the basement. “I am here from the church to help with the ritual below.”

“Is that what Grandfather wants?” the girl asked, her cold dead eyes reflecting the tone of her voice. There was no inflection of emotion to her, nothing to show that she was human, and it brought a spike of pain to Ruler’s heart. “Maybe I should tell him you’re here?”

Just as she was about to object a sudden shaking from below caused the purple haired girl to turn and look down the stairs, a small spark of curiosity and worry coming to her eyes, before she turned back. Ruler had taken that moment to return to spiritual form and flee swiftly up the stairs. From there the woman observed the little girl look around, confused for a few moments, before walking away, apparently back to whatever it was that she had been going to do before being interrupted by the wayward spirit. The woman sighed, quietly since she wasn’t sure if the girl could hear her in spiritual form as well.

Footsteps resounded as another trio came from the basement, obviously in a rush. Once again she froze, a shock going through her system as she recognized the horned homunculus and the great grey skinned gladiator coming from the basement. Somehow the pair of them were working together well, and the homunculus put down their Master, a man with grey hair and a ruined body. Even she could tell from that distance that the man was dying.

“Sakura!” the man yelled, calling for the little girl she had met earlier. She smiled slightly, and quickly fled towards the front door, leaving through the crack she had left open.

Turning to take one final look back on the interior she saw Sakura turn and see her again, then she waved at her as the Servant nodded and left the estate’s grounds. The man, she felt, would take good care of the girl. She could sense a twisted vileness in him, but it was nowhere to the extent to cause whatever had happened to the girl.

As soon as she left the barrier on the outside of the house she felt another pair of summonings pulling at her. One was close, near the wharf, while one seemed to be happening near the center of town. She sighed, then ran towards the nearer one, hopefully it would finish sooner than the other and she could confirm her suspicions now. If the Grail had summoned not only herself, but the other Servants from the Greater Holy Grail War, then this could turn bad, quickly.

The blond woman had managed to make her way to the seaside and saw the end of the ritual, feeling the second presence of the Grail also end abruptly she shook her head. She had missed the second one, but could still catch a glimpse of this group. One was an accident, two a coincidence. A third time would confirm her suspicions and she could get an idea of how to act in this war.

As she rounded the corner she stopped, spotting the pair of lancers, easily confirmed to be the Red and Black Lancers. The pair stood before her, and she remembered their meetings. Karna, the Lancer of Red, still held himself proudly, bowing before a red haired woman who seemed to hold his Command Seals. While the Lancer of Black, the despicable Vampire, stood next to another man who seemed to have his own Command Seals for that Servant.

This wasn’t like with the other Servants and Masters, the group seemed to be made up of two Masters and Servants, like how it would and should be. But it did confirm one thing to her.

The Servants participating were, in fact, the ones from her memories in Trifas.

If that was the case, then she could assume that the Archer Servant she’d sensed around the Tohsaka residence was either Atalanta or Chiron, though she couldn’t exactly confirm that having not seen who was guarding the home. She could also probably guess that the man had summoned the other Archer to his side, or someone close to him had.

And the priest, if he were the Master of the pair of Servants, was in charge of the Assassins, Semiramis and... who? She knew it was someone dangerous, who could strike out within moments against an opponent, but she couldn’t place the name or face of the Servant even with her own personal skills and protection. All she had was the knowledge of this skill she had borrowed, Information Erasure.

Grimacing, the blond woman sighed as she gave up the thought and watched the group in front of her leave the area. She would head towards where the other summoning had happened, or at least where she’d guessed it had happened.

And then, she thought with a small sigh, she should probably inform her own Master. She wouldn’t tell him what their names were, that was truly against the rules of a regular Holy Grail War, and even in these circumstances it would be, at the very minimum, rude, but she could warn him of what had changed about the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adjunct was made specifically for this Story and is not an actual skill in the listings.
> 
> The skill works as follows, if you guys want to see it, but there are some small Spoilers.
> 
> Adjunct allows a Ruler class Servant who has been properly summoned, and not possessing a human body, to borrow a Servant's skills. It follows a set of rules, limiting the amount of skills, as well as the level of skills.
> 
> There is a lowered effectiveness of the skill if it is a Personal skill that the Ruler doesn't have as part of their own legend. The skills can only be used up to the maximum skill level of the Adjunct skill, and the ranking of the Adjunct skill also determines how many skills can be borrowed and/or active at the same time. Class skills only take up one slot and Personal skills take Two. 
> 
> A Ruler can swap skills in and out of their skill slots, however if a Servant dies during the Grail War, the Ruler can retain the borrowed skill so long as they have it borrowed. If they swap it out they lose access to it and cannot borrow it any longer.
> 
> Jeanne's Adjunct Skill is B+, meaning she can use a skill up to its B+ equivalent rank and that she has 4 skill slots with which to borrow skills.


	10. An Issue of Trust

As the early morning sun began to peek over the tallest buildings in Fuyuki, the plane began its descent. It was one of many that were travelling to and from the little city daily, though it didn’t have much in the way passengers. It was a small plane, slim and pointed like a dagger and pure white. It was meant for short trips and small groups, but it did its job remarkably, and had gotten the participants to the city.

As the plane landed a thud and screeching sound of rubber came from the front of the plane and Irisviel flinched slightly. The silver haired knight sitting across from her looked over, a worried look in his eyes, but kept his place near her in case the worst possible scenario happened. Soon, the plane slowed to a halt and was taxied to a private section of the small airport that operated in the port town. The hissing of hydraulics as the door slowly came open made her smile, it reminded her of home and the hissing of steam that could sometimes be heard within the walls of the ancient castle.

A pair of Einzbern maids stepped towards the front of the plane, stepping towards the offloading platform to make sure that their mistress wasn’t targeted. These weren’t the combat types, but the administrator types. The ones that were more likely to simply become shields for their masters, rather than successfully fight. Even so, Irisviel could feel some small magics emanating from them. As she stood she felt a slight loss in the feelings of her legs, as if from sitting too long, and her legs threatened to topple her.

The knight, however, stepped besides her smoothly and swiftly to support her.

“Thank you Siegfried,” Irisviel said with a smile as the third maid had begun gathering their bags from the upper compartments of the plane. “I’m fine now, just not used to sitting for so long.”

“As you say, my lady,” the knight said, stepping back and allowing her to stand on her own. She walked towards the front of the plane, making her way out of it as the maids formed a sort of defensive circle around her. The knight, as always, stood behind and to the right of her, in case something were to come for her he’d be able to interdict in it.

He was wearing a black suit that covered him completely, a good compliment to her own plain white and gold clothing, and a pair of thick sunglasses covered his eyes. He looked like a normal bodyguard one would see in the mafia movies she’d always loved so much. Watching them, she could almost imagine her husband’s line of work with what he did.

Even with all that though, they all stood out. A giant with silver hair and slightly tanned skin, as well as a group of white haired, red eyed women surrounding him, got their group several looks from those around them. The women seemed to be eying the man, ‘checking him out’ seemed to be the modern lingo, while the men seemed to be studying the dead eyed maids. Some of them backed away, with them acting like humanoid robots it was making some around them uncomfortable.

Quickly making their way through the queues in the airport they’d finally arrived at the customs desk. They were each asked questions, and the man behind the counter seemed uncomfortable talking to the maids, but seemed to relax once it came to her turn for this. She’d had all her papers properly prepared, telling him she was here for business, and moved on to Siegfried presenting his papers.

“Please remove your glasses for me?” the man said, staring at the broad chested and dominating Servant before him. Some small instinct in him seemed to be telling him to flee immediately, but it was almost cute how he held on and refused to back down in front of the Servant. In response, the Servant himself followed what the man said and took off his glasses to show his clear blue colored eyes. “Good, Let’s see?”

Checking the passport they’d prepared his eyebrows seemed to raise a little, something wasn’t adding up here, but the pressure from the Servant seemed to make him want to rush the man through quickly.

“Alright, Paskal Schroter?” the customs officer said, and the Servant nodded in response. Not once had he spoken up while they were in the airport itself. “What’re you here for? Business or Pleasure?”

“The same as the Mistress,” the man said, a quiet gravelly tone to his voice as he answered honestly. “Business.”

“All right then,” the clerk said, seeming to be relieved that the man wasn’t openly admitting to anything illegal. “Enjoy your time here, and stay out of trouble.”

“Will do, sir,” Siegfried said, bowing slightly and putting his sunglasses back on. 

The group had finally made it to baggage return and collected their things quickly and headed out to the car waiting for them outside. The trio of maids waved goodbye, they would find their own way to the Einzbern forest that was nearby, in the meantime they were meant to draw attention away from her husband and make their way through the city.

“Wow,” Irisviel said, staring at the sights around them and reveling in how tall the buildings got. There were very few skyscrapers in the city, but with how it was growing rapidly she wouldn’t be surprised if it grew quickly. “It’s so nice to be in a city for once.”

“Have you never been out, Lady Irisviel?” the Servant said, looking at her quizzically. She almost giggled, he looked like an overly large animal curious about something they’d found in the woods.

“No, never,” the woman said, a small sigh escaping in the laughter’s place. “I’ve been cooped up in that castle since my birth, after all. Grandfather didn’t want me to leave, and even built me specifically for this war, after all.”

The man continued looking at her, he even lowered his glasses and watched her, his clear blue eyes piercing her for a moment before she shook her head.

“My husband, Kiritsugu, he saved me, you know?” The knight’s face hardened slightly now. 

Kiritsugu and the Knight hadn’t gotten along as well as she had originally hoped. He seemed to dislike how the man was treating both Servants as tools for war rather than actual people to collaborate with. But now, the man seemed surprised by the fact that he would do so. He’d obviously seen how the man had interacted with his daughter, but he’d apparently never fully bought the act.

“I was considered defective by grandfather, and was supposed to be scrapped,” the homunculus said sadly, looking down at her feet now. “But Kiritsugu had gotten to know me, to evaluate me. And something about me caused him to decide to take action. He went out on his own, in the dead of winter, and fought off wild beasts for me. Just like a knight would.”

Irisviel raised her head and now stared dead into Siegfried’s eyes. Even past the intenseness of his eyes she could feel him struggling with something he wanted to say, but seemed hesitant to, in case it broke something. This man, how long had he been walking on eggshells around other for? Was that even part of his legends?

“Then he taught me about the world, about what we’d be facing and what was going to happen in the next Holy Grail War that I would be participating in.” the woman said, a wistful sigh now coming to her. “And we fell in love.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t just using you as his best chance for the grail, my lady?” the man said, a sad look in his eyes now, as if he knew exactly what happened with that sort of thing.

“No,” the woman said, a smile still on her face. “It may have been that way at first, for sure. But then I went and fell in love with him. And I know he cares about me and Ilya, so that’s enough for me.”

“That is... a brave way to face the world, Lady Irisviel,” the man said, his shoulders sloping slight. “I don’t know if I’d have enough bravery to do the same.”

“Don’t say that,” the pale haired woman said with a broad smile now. “You responded to my husband's wish to save the world, did you not? How much more brave could you get once that is your goal?”

“True,” the man said, a wry chuckle coming from him. “Let’s stop the car, Lady Irisviel. I would like to show you this city, as a... way of saying thank you.”

“Thank you for what?” the woman said, cocking her head slightly to the side. 

“That despite all my grievances,” the man said, slowly as if he was still thinking through his words and his decision to open his heart. “Proving to me that Master is, in fact, worthy of trust.”

A broad smile of pure joy spread over irisviel’s face and she nodded her acceptance. There would still be time before the war, and she didn’t even need to go straight to the castle, this would be the perfect chance to get out and stretch her wings for a little bit.


	11. Familiar Domain

The rundown motel didn’t impress the knight, as she followed her Master in spiritual form. The man had complained that she, the Knight of Rebellion, was too loud, too flashy, brought too much attention. So he’d told her to stay in spiritual form whenever they were out in public.

Sure, Mordred had pouted and growled, angry at the rejection from her Master, and still upset at him daring to bring another Servant to the battlefield instead of her. But she supposed she didn’t mind as much as she thought she would have.

Her Master, Kiritsugu Emiya, confused her greatly. She had told him her wish, what she wanted from the Grail. And he had even accepted her instead of having the two Servants he’d summoned fight to the death beforehand. The man was practical, which was dangerous in a Magus, it almost reminded her of how Merlin acted when he got serious and stopped messing around like some big, stupid, overgrown kid, and that sent a chill right down her spine. Having a Master that was like that creepy weirdo? No, thank you. 

Reaching out with her Spiritual senses, she could feel the presence of other Servants in the city, faint wells of power radiating out into the world around them. The strongest seemed to be openly displaying their power, while the smarter ones had, like her, suppressed their presence so as not to stick out. 

Only two truly stood out as powerhouses currently, though she couldn’t exactly tell what their class was from this distance. One was in the southern area of the city, a place they hadn’t visited since they were keeping to what would, in this time, be called the slums or lower section of the city. The disparity in the city made her grin, it was as it should be with the winners rising to the top and the losers and the weak getting sequestered to the outer regions of the city. The other seemed to be in another part of town, if she remembered correctly, the residential district?

The fact that they were actively slumming it in the seedier side of town made her growl behind her Master.

“Something wrong, Saber?” the brown haired killer asked, talking softly so as to not draw any unnecessary attention.

“Yeah, Master,” the Knight of Rebellion said, a petulant tone in her voice now. “When’re we gonna be fighting? I’m soooo bored.”

“Soon, Saber,” the man said, still walking towards one of the back rooms and finally stopping at one of the myriad doors that all looked the same to her. This place had a particular squalor that seemed even unbefitting to the peasants of her time, though they would have rejoiced to have the luxuries of this age at their disposal. “But first, we need to properly plan things out.”

“Here’s a plan for ya, Master,” the Servant said, a grin in her voice since she technically didn’t have a face to show it. “I go in, wreck some shit, and then we leave? Hell, I’ll even leave you one of the extra punchable faces so you can work out some of that stress.”

“Rejected,” the man said deadpan, before knocking on the door. A strange little knock, different than what one would normally use when asking permission to answer. 

The door opened a crack and she saw a face she didn’t recognize. The woman had dark eyes matching her shoulder length straight hair. She wore a simple shirt and pants. A very plain woman that would blend in almost anywhere she went, a perfect scout or assassin. She growled slightly, ready to jump right back into physical form if it was needed, but the woman simply nodded then closed the door and the knight heard clicking from behind the door before it was opened more widely, allowing the man to enter without exposing too much of the room to outside scrutiny.

Sighing as he stepped inside the woman helped the jacket from his shoulders, hanging it up in the small closet that was near the door.

“Any news, Maiya?” the man said to the woman as he looked over the bed. There were three big suitcases and a smaller one off to the side near the head of the bed.

“Very little, other than confirmation that pretty much all the summonings have been finished,” the woman said simply, turning to face him again. “But all the weapons you ordered arrived through the usual channels.”

“Weapons?” the knight interjected. While she was in spiritual form she could only communicate with her Master, and it was frustrating. She could sense the presence of her counterpart, no matter how far away he was due to their mutual bond with Kiritsugu, but they could not talk over long distances. She couldn’t even ask him how much fun the stick in the mud was having guarding the damn princess. “This I gotta see, Master! Lemme see, Lemme see!”

“Saber,” the man said, a vexed sound to his voice that even she could sense.

“Hey, now,” the knight said, growling again. “You aren’t starting to think that it was a mistake bringing me along with you instead of that stupid, boring, flashy pretty boy Servant...”

“Are you Master?” a hint of a, pure, cold threat in her voice now as she allowed a moment of pause to finish her question to her Master.

“I would never think such a thing, Saber,” the man said with a sigh as he went to sit on the bed. She smiled slightly, though she wouldn’t tell him. He didn’t seem intimidated by her, but neither did he hold her in awe like some sort of living embodiment of something. It was a refreshing change of pace for her.

“Saber?” the woman said, looking around the room. “Kiritsugu, weren’t you supposed to send your Servant with your Mistress Irisviel?”

“I did,” the man said, holding his hand to his head as if he was trying to stave off a kind of headache to himself. “Irisviel is currently being protected by... one of my Servants.”

“One of...?” the woman said, thinking things through for a moment as she sat down on the opposite end of the bed.

“She’s kinda slow on the uptake, isn’t she Master?” The delinquent knight said, a smile clearly in her voice now. This was interesting, even when it wasn’t a fight. It was good banter, the kind she’d had before destroying her Father when she’d been just a simple Knight of the Round Table. She almost missed the bastards she’d worked with. Almost.

“Well,” the man said, finally lowering his hand from his forehead and sighing. “It’s not surprising when you’re normally supposed to summon a single Servant in a war.”

“That definitely pans out, though,” the woman said, standing up from the bed and heading towards the television that was set up in the room. “I have some footage for you, from the familiars. I thought it was weird, or the images had been corrupted or something.”

She put in a tape on the television, and clicked a button as it came to life. The viewpoint surprised the knight. She’d never been a mage, so she didn’t know what it was like to view things through the eyes of a familiar, let alone being able to transcribe them onto a box so you could review it later. If she’d had this back during her time, she could have...

But no, she shook her head, reminding herself that that wasn’t what was important right now. Getting data on her enemies, so she could act sooner was important. If this proved something interesting, then she’d have the chance to fight sooner.

The view showed the wharfs near town, and a flash of light signified a summoning of sorts. A single Servant, a man with gold hair and black leathers stood in the center and addressed a figure that was just out of sight. A redheaded woman stood nearby, watching and Mordred could recognize the anger in her stance. She hated the man she was working with, hated the fact that she was there with him in this capacity. She wanted something, but was being forced or coerced into something different. Then a second spark of light came from the same circle and now some half dressed guy with white hair and a giant spear of gold came out of the circle.

“I would have thought of this as a coincidence if I hadn’t seen this,” with the click of a button the viewpoint changed, now showing one of the upper district areas and a really old, creepy castle. And that was saying something since Mordred had just come from a hellscape of snow and white and grey. “This is outside the Matou residence, maybe a few minutes later than that first recording.

This one showed a man, grey hair and seemed to be barely holding himself together, walking with a small purple haired girl and a pair of Servants. One looked like a big, freakish strongman. Blond hair over ash colored skin. His armor barely even there, more for modesty than anything and it almost failed at that as well. A small woman followed them, wearing what looked like a wedding dress and a gold horn parting the reddish-pink colored hair that covered the upper half of her face. They walked off of the property and further into the city.

“I didn’t have either familiar follow them, worried they would be spotted and dealt with,” the woman finished, clicking off the television. “But it strongly supports that you are probably not the only one that managed to summon two Servants.”

“Well done, Maiya,” the man said nodding to her. “I think I recognized the woman, she’s Sola-Ui, and she’s been betrothed to the El-Melloi head. So it’s probably safe to assume those Servants were summoned by Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi. The second one is hard to recognize, but I’d bet money that it was Kariya Matou.”

The woman nodded simply, staying quiet about her situation.

“I don’t think I’ll warn Irisviel or Siegfried about this, though,” the man said, a sigh escaping as he reached for his pack of smokes he kept in his jacket pocket. Then he grimaced as he realized that Maiya had taken his jacket from him. “It’ll work better for us if they think they’ve outsmarted us here.”

“Hey Master,” the knight piped up. “That’s interesting and all, but can I please take Physical Form already, I’m really starting to get a crick in my neck.”

“What neck?” the man said, rolling his eyes. “You’re in Spiritual Form, you shouldn’t feel anything like that while in that form.”

“Yeah, well you try being put in a box and having all your power condensed around you to keep a damn low profile sometime.”

“Fine, fine,” the man said, shaking his head again. “You can take Physical Form Saber.”

The woman appeared before the pair, still wearing her armor but her helmet down to allow her some breathing room. Man, she hated going in Spiritual Form, it was always so stifling, and damned cramped. She smiled, grinning at the woman.

“Hey, there, little lady,” Mordred said. “I’m the...”

“Saber,” the man said, glaring at her and stopping her in her tracks for a moment.

“What?”

“I will use a Command Seal to make you not reveal your identity,” the man warned simply, his cold dead eyes boring into her.

“Wha- Why?”

“The less I know the less I can reveal to the enemy,” Maiya answered simply. “I am not a magus like Kiritsugu and Mistress Irisviel. I’m nothing but a gun for hire that Kiritsugu brought along. If I’m captured they could torture it out of me using Magic.”

“Oh, well, I guess that makes sense,” the knight said with a pouting face and a sigh coming to her as she put her hand on her thigh and her other hand to the back of her head. “But how will you tell the difference between me and the damn pretty boy? I don’t like being called the same thing as him, its fucking annoying.”

Thinking for a few moments the Saber seemed to have a flash of inspiration as she snapped her fingers.

“Fine, then you can call me ‘Red’”

“Why Red?” the mage-killer asked, a dry tone to his voice now.

“Well, the pretty boy has black armor right?” the Knight of Rebellion said with a victorious grin. “And he has that whole ‘I am the darkness’ vibe going on with his clothes now that the Princess is done playing dress up with him. So he’ll go by Black and I’ll go by Red, since it goes with the red things I’ve got going on in my armor, see?”

Pointing to the red cloth and crimson lettering written into her enchanted armor she smiled like the cat that caught the canary.

“That has to be the dumbest...” Kiritsugu said with a groan, which earned him a glare from the Servant. “Fine, fine, Red it is. I’ll be sure to tell Irisviel and Sa-, Black, about it. but we’ll keep up pretenses of him being the only Servant so until we tip our hands we’ll have her keep referring to him as Saber. Is that a good compromise Sa-, Red?”

“Sounds good to me, Master,” the knight said, another victorious grin spreading across her face now. “Now, back to the important stuff. You were saying something about weapons?”

Her eyes had lit up and the other two, taken in by her own sense of excitement at the prospect of seeing some new weapons, gave up and gave in and began to show her their collection as well as to speak on some of their plans for the war, now that it had been pretty much confirmed to them that each Master would have a pair of Servants.

By the end of it, Mordred was grinning so wide she was worried her face was broken. This Master of hers was devious and dangerous. Willing to fight dirty, like herself. Willing to destroy whatever had to be to win, again like her, willing to fight the entire world itself to get what he wanted.

It was almost a dream for Mordred to be working with this man. She nodded, fully satisfied at his explanation to her. It was almost a shame when the man nodded to Maiya and said they’d be resting for a couple of hours and then head out to scout more of the city. Maybe she should be less pushy with the man, give him a bit of a break from her constant pestering of him.

There were stranger things that had happened, even amongst the weirdos of The Round Table, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this chapter earlier than I thought. Originally I was just writing this series for fun and decided to upload it as a sort of side project. But the enthusiasm I have gotten for this series has really pushed me to continue this scenario, so for that I really thank you guys. 
> 
> Also sometimes the characters just demand that certain things would happen and you gotta write it out... or else...
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the Mordy chapter.


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